


Well My Heart Is Gold, But My Hands Are Cold

by ObsidionWingsofMidnight



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: M/M, More tags to follow, Slow Burn, changing lots of things from canon and making it a lot gayer, characters from the dark knight trilogy, christain bale batman not affleck, for real once a month is considered fast for me, ignoring snyder's shit characterization, nothing against affleck tho, prepare for the slowest updates also, runs concurrent with bvs for a while then branches off, the slowest of burns, u know when i remember them cuz i started writing this at 2am
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7611766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidionWingsofMidnight/pseuds/ObsidionWingsofMidnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fixing some of the terrible characterization in BvS and making it hella gay because I can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Insignificant

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to get a few things clear before we really get going:  
> -We're going with Christian Bale as Batman in this fic, not Affleck. Nothing against Affleck, I'm sure he'll do good in his standalone movie, but Snyder's characterization is evil and should be destroyed at all costs.  
> -Still going with Henry Cavill tho, even tho I'm not the biggest fan of his characterization either. I have a lot of issues with Snyder's characterization of virtually anybody.  
> -This is set in BvS, and it's after MoS and TDKR  
> -yes, TDKR still happens, but I pushed up waaaay ahead so Bruce is only like 35 for Bvs  
> -Also this obv means that a lot of shit changed in TDKR, ie: Bruce is still Batman, John Blake doesn't take up the mantle, and I decided Talia's not dead either. Because I love Nolan a lot, but her death was ridiculous.

_This place has taken me by storm_

_It makes me feel like running_

_This place is making me transform_

_Until I feel like nothing_

_-“The Flame in All of Us” by Thousand Foot Krutch_

* * *

 

Bruce Wayne was not an ordinary man by any means. He was one of the wealthiest men in the world, and he was considered to be quite attractive by conventional standards. And of course, there was his _night job_ where he masqueraded as a crime fighting vigilante. By human standards he was quite extraordinary.

It was the appearance of extraterrestrials that shattered his illusions of being exceptional. What was a mere human like him next to a god?

The Kryptonians were far superior to him in their physical capabilities. They were virtually indestructible, had super strength, and could even shoot lasers out of their eyes. How could he compare? The only thing capable of destroying a Kryptonian was another Kryptonian. Which Bruce decidedly was not.

When he saw them fight that fateful day in Metropolis, he felt so small and insignificant. Despite his best efforts he couldn't even save the employees in his building. He was completely powerless in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. Not since he was a young boy, running away from his parents’ funeral and the oppressing presence of the mausoleum that would be their new home.

It was humbling.

Yet he couldn't allow himself to give in to their might, no matter how powerful they were. There had to be some way to make himself stronger, to make himself _better_. He had to, or no one could stand a chance against them.

Superman was hailed as a hero. There was a monument created in his honor, a towering statue of him offering a helping hand to the feeble masses that passed by. Bruce had only visited it once. The revulsion of standing beneath a seemingly benevolent god that had wrought destruction upon them was too much.

He didn't care what everyone said. He didn't trust Superman. If it hadn't been for him then Zod wouldn't have even bothered with their planet. That was what he told himself anyway. There was no real way of knowing for sure.

Still, no one with the kind of power Superman possessed should be taken lightly, no matter how good their intentions. Superman hadn't unveiled himself to the world for very long- what if one day he decided they were unfit to govern themselves? What if one day he used his abilities to truly declare himself a god? A benevolent ruler was still a ruler, and he would not let this world fall to tyranny.

So he trained harder and thought long and good about how to stand on equal ground with a god.

Superman may have had the upper hand in physical abilities, but he had yet to prove his mental capabilities. If Bruce was smarter- which he dearly hoped he was-then perhaps they weren't on such uneven ground after all. Brawn wasn't everything.

Take the Joker for example. There was an average man, who only broke from the norm in his insanity and unnerving intelligence that he used to torture others. It was his intelligence that made him so dangerous rather than any sort of physical prowess.

"Master Bruce, you may think you're above the need for sleep, but I think even you require some rest," Alfred's voice cut neatly through his thoughts. He turned to face the other man, cowl resting atop his legs where he sat contemplating about opponents.

"Bats are nocturnal, Alfred," he joked, smiling slightly at the put upon look Alfred got on his face.

"That may be so sir, but you are half man regardless of what you say. You ought to get some sleep. You have a board meeting in the morning."

Bruce sighed before standing and replacing the cowl in its case. Alfred was right; he really did need some rest. After he divested himself of the rest of his Batman gear, he plodded upstairs to his bedroom with Alfred following dutifully behind.

He would think about Superman more in the morning.

* * *

 

Clark just wanted to be ordinary sometimes. He wanted to stay home and relax instead of worrying about the general safety of the world. He wanted ordinary things like warm food and a warm bed. He wanted to wake up next to the same person everyday and know that he'd made the right choice by giving them his heart.

Often times, he didn't get any of those things. He often made food or ordered takeout only to find himself far away from it to help someone else. By the time he returned it was usually cold or lukewarm at best. And his bed never had a body in it long enough for it to feel anything but cold. And he had no one to give his heart to anymore.

He thought giving it to Lois was the right choice. He wasn't entirely wrong. He and Lois got along really well. She was beautiful and kind, but not afraid of letting her voice be heard. Sometimes she was his voice of reason, keeping his head from the clouds. Or from the chains that threatened to pull him under. He loved her so much, but in the end it wasn't the kind of love he expected.

She was his best friend before the break up, and it stayed that way after the break up. It was fortunate that they both reached the conclusion they were not meant to be at the same time. It was sad at first, knowing that they were so close, but not quite there. It stung for them to realize they had to keep looking for someone that they would love as much. But they powered through it, and they were still as close as ever, even if it wasn't in quite the same way.

When he looked back on it, he supposed a large part of what drove him to her romantically was the idea of not having to hide who he was. Lois knew his biggest secret without him ever having to tell her. It seemed logical to him that she was ideal for him in the sense that he could truly be himself. Unlike most people she didn't see him just as Clark Kent or just as Superman. She saw that they were him, cape or glasses regardless. There were no alternate identities with her.

He wished Lois was the right person for him. But that particular spark just wasn't there.

He wondered if he would ever find the right person, with just the right kind of spark. Maybe if Krypton was still there and he was normal among them he could have found them. Or perhaps if he'd just been human, he'd have found them.

He was neither completely human nor completely Kryptonian. It had seemed like a strength when he fought Zod, but now it left him feeling lost.

He _needed_ someone to make him feel worthwhile. It wasn't like his mother and Lois, and other friends didn't make him feel loved, but he needed romantic love too. Without it there was always that nagging sensation that he just wasn't good enough.

Here he was, one of the most powerful men in the world, and he was hopelessly insignificant.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter just to start off with.  
> I honestly kinda hate myself for starting another fic cuz I have like 4 other ones going lol  
> But i just bought BvS and I just...I can't...just...no...snyder can kiss my ass cuz even my shitty fanfic can't be worse than what he made  
> (Not that there weren't things I liked in BvS but...not enough to make up for all the things...that were just...wrong...like idk...the entire characterization of I-don't-use-guns-and-don't-kill-people batman) How do you fuck up so badly?????  
> Also, I really love the batkids, but it pains me to think of them in snyder's shit show so they won't be a part of this fic.  
> I am very bitter about this movie.


	2. Get Ready to Rumble

_Anger and agony_

_Are better than misery_

_Trust me I've got a plan_

_When the lights go off you'll understand_

_-"Pain" by Three Days Grace_

* * *

 

Bruce was furious.

It was becoming a frighteningly common occurrence for him. No matter what he did or how he reasoned with himself, the Kryptonian was always getting under his skin.

Months had passed where he watched the media try and figure out how to portray Superman, and he was finally starting to think he'd been too rash about his hatred for the alien. He watched news reel after news reel of him saving people when no one else could. What happened in Metropolis was a tragedy, but deep down he knew it was wrong to blame it all on Superman. He was finally coming to terms with what had happened.

Then Superman had to fuck it all up.

The details of what happened in Nairomi were hotly contested. Lois Lane defended Superman, but she was highly biased, no matter how professional she sounded on paper. Was he just supposed to throw away the word of the Kenyan's in favor of a lone reporter?

He wanted so badly to go there himself and collect his own evidence, but unfortunately Gotham wasn't giving him a chance. Between gang wars, super villains, corporate issues, and the mandatory four hours of sleep Alfred set for him, he simply didn't have the time.

It was driving him crazy not knowing all the details, and the more time that passed, the more evidence he lost.

Part of him wanted to believe that Superman was as good as he claimed to be, but the cynical part of him refused to fall for it. Even if Superman's intentions really were that pure, he clearly couldn't be trusted to consider the consequences.

According to Lane he'd been there to rescue her, which was noble of him. However, that didn't excuse the killing of the men holding her captive, nor of the deaths of the innocent villagers. Whether he killed them himself or not, they were dead now because of his appearance.

What happened in Metropolis was too similar for him to ignore.

Superman had fought to save the planet, but he left so much destruction in his wake. The alien was strong, but he was woefully untrained. Bruce had sat and analyzed footage and eyewitness accounts of the fight between Zod and Superman for hours on end. It was painfully clear to him that Superman relied on his powers over any sort of tactic. He was one of those people that thought if he punched hard enough he would win.

He didn't seem to hold any remorse for the buildings the two destroyed in their battle. Or for the people that had been caught in said buildings.

Jack O'Dwyer's smiling face flashed in his memory, followed by the sound of his voice as he answered Bruce's call, saying the last words they would ever exchange.

Bruce swallowed past the lump in his throat. In his mind's eye he saw a little girl staring at him in bewilderment, coated in dust with tear tracks down her cheeks. Saw the look of uncertainty in her eyes as she pointed to the smoldering wreckage of the building next to them, almost as if she were asking him to tell her she was seeing things. To tell her that her mother was fine.

He clenched his fists and shook his head to clear his thoughts. He was patrolling right now. He couldn't afford to get distracted.

He could, perhaps, afford to take his frustration out on the criminal underbelly of Gotham.

* * *

 

Clark shuffled wearily to his desk. Ever since Nairomi he'd been feeling down. Everywhere he turned someone was debating over Superman's actions, whether it was saving a space shuttle or stopping a robbery. It was times like these he really regretted working for the Daily Planet. He couldn't escape the news when his job consisted entirely of the news.

At least Lois was on his side. She was even trying to figure out whose men were planted in Africa, bless her heart. He appreciated the support, although he was a little concerned about her safety. When he said as much to Lois she told him to shut his pretty little mouth and mind his own business. Her exact words.

To top it all off he was arguing with Perry about the Batman _again_. He just didn't understand how Perry could just brush off the vigilante like he was nothing. This man was beating criminals to a pulp while the police chased him, and Perry wanted him to cover sports. _Sports_.

Lois agreed that the Batman seemed like a problem, but she also saw where Perry was coming from. It was Gotham after all; the whole place was a bagful of crazy. There were dozens of people running around in masks, each with new and improved ways to terrorize the city. Hell, just last year Gotham was held captive by a man with a nuclear bomb.

He remembered watching the news, the sick feeling of his gut twisting inside him. And that's all he did.

He just watched. He didn't lift a hand to help them.

He wanted to so, so badly, but it wasn't safe. The city could have been nuked if he flew over there. He'd have gone as Clark Kent, average reporter, but no one was allowed in or out of Gotham. There was a group that went in to rescue the city, but they were discovered before the day was over. Their bodies were hung from a bridge to show the world the consequences help would bring. Clark wouldn't have had the same problem, but if they tried to kill him and found him invulnerable he'd never be able to hide his identity again.

In the end he'd been just as useless as any other person watching the events unfold.

He hated every second of it.

Though it certainly made him admire the average human all the more. He couldn't imagine what it must be like to live that way day after day for their entire lives. He couldn't imagine how it felt to not be able to rush into a burning building and not be afraid of being crushed or burnt. How it felt to feel pain from something as simple as a paper cut.

But people still went on with their lives, even if they weren't invincible like him. It amazed him sometimes.

If he was being perfectly honest, he admired the Batman. Despite what some of the stories said, the vigilante was definitely a human. As someone who was practically invulnerable, he had to admit it was much gutsier for Batman to go out and fight with his fragile human body than it was for Clark.

That certainly didn't mean he approved.

Batman was dangerous and arrogant. For some reason he thought his work was above the law, and therefore he shouldn't have to abide by the same rules. He may have had the right idea, but he was executing it the wrong way.

Clark wanted to bring him to justice. _Superman_ wanted to bring him to justice.

But perhaps he was being too rash.

Maybe Batman didn't understand that what he was doing was wrong.

So he'd give him a chance.

One last chance to stop this madness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is I- the master of saying I'll try to update sooner and somehow always updating even later than usual lol. Apologies for that, classes started up again and it's been...gross. But I am still here. At least until midterms where I'll inevitably start crashing and burning from the 20-30 minutes of art history that I consistently sleep through every tuesday and thursday. It's gonna be wild.   
> The guilt of updating so late did make me write like half of this last night though. So you know...progress lol   
> Also the other night I caught a scyther, which has nothing to do with this fic, but I'm still very proud of it. (Stupid motherfucker gave me so much trouble tho)  
> Also, dunno if I've ever mentioned before, but I'm on tumblr! Have been for ages, but I always seem to forget to say lmao  
> So if you like reblogging a weird mishmash of memes and aesthetics and whatever weird thing comes my way hmu @theofficialasexual.tumblr.com!


	3. Lex

_"O gods, how dark the night that rules men's minds!_

_Precisely when he weaves his plot, he seems_

_a man most dutiful; he wins much praise_

_for what is wickedness."_

_-"Tereus, Procne, Philomela" from the Metamorphoses of Ovid_

_\--------------------------------_

Lex Luthor was a clever man. He was easily considered one of the most brilliant minds of the era. Yet from cleverness breeds sickness- a sickness of the mind. A thousand plans, a thousand theories, a thousand ways to change the world for better or for worse. Lex was plagued by these in a never ending stream of thought.

Lex had been a spoiled child. He was spoiled in riches, in trinkets, in toys.

Lex had been a neglected child. Pressured by immense expectations and left to his own devices. His parents barely spared a minute for letting him know their displeasure, much less to extend a loving hand.

He learned how to treat people the way they wanted to by observing others rather than from experience. He learned how to pull their strings.

The older he got, the less he tried to please them and the more he tried to simply get what he wanted.

He was good at it. The world was ripe for the picking. Everything fit together in a puzzle that he had painstakingly put together.

Then superman appeared and ruined everything.

The puzzle crumbled apart in his hands- wet cardboard that turned into soggy lumps in his fists.

Here was a being that Lex didn't understand. A riddle to be solved.

There were bits and pieces that Lex could patch together, but as a whole he was still a mystery. He simply couldn't fathom why someone so invincible, so strong, so _powerful_ would not use their abilities for personal gain. He didn't understand why Superman bothered with the Earth at all.

It would have been much nicer if Lex didn't have to be concerned about a super powered boy scout discovering all the shady business he was involved with. It was easy to hide what he did from the public. But to try hiding it from someone with x-ray vision that scared any sane man? That was harder.

Fortunately Lex was clever enough that not only could he succeed but that Superman was preoccupied with other problems.

It couldn't last forever though.

So he made plans.

He waited and he observed the Man of Steel. He realized the best way to keep Superman out of his business was to give him an enemy. He needed an enemy that would be able to take the alien on and continue to do so for a long time. Even better, he needed an enemy that could kill Superman.

He turned to Gotham. It was overflowing with opportunity, overflowing with people who were less sane than the rest of the world. He needed someone who was a little crazy but still smart enough to win.

He needed the Batman.

Gotham's Dark Knight was the perfect nemesis for Metropolis' Golden Boy.

He didn't even need to plant the seed of suspicion in the caped crusaders. From what he'd observed, the two had differing ideologies. Superman was the embodiment of the good citizen enforcing the law. Batman was the vigilante- the one that took justice into his own hands because the law refused to enforce it.

Superman was naive- of that much Lex was certain. He had such power, but he barely knew how to use it. Despite all his great abilities, he was too trusting of the world and its inhabitants. Why, when his own kind had arrived from the stars he'd simply turned against them. They offered him even more power and to help rebuild their world. And what had he done? He destroyed them. He clung to humanity instead and vouched for them over his own species.

When he fought, he fought like he was invincible. He fought without finesse. The battle between him and the Kryptonians was little more than a glorified fist fight. He didn't believe that anyone could do him harm.

Lex would use that to his advantage.

He was sure the Bat would too.

That was why he spent so much time, so much money, collecting glowing green rocks from the ocean. Nothing from Earth could harm Superman, but maybe something from beyond could.

He just needed to test his theory.

That meant getting a test subject. Fortunately he knew exactly where to find one.

Unfortunately he did not yet have access to it.

But he would. Because he was Lex Luthor, and Lex Luthor always got what he wanted.

It was just a matter of pulling strings.

So he made more plans and started putting them in motion. He arranged a meeting with someone to get the body he so desperately needed. He put in calls to the oh so righteous Senator. He kept an eye on the Son of Krypton and the Son of Gotham.

And on one not so special night, he went into his father's old study- his study now- and flipped one of the paintings upside down.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Adele voice* "Hello. It's me."  
> lol sorry I took so long to update, and sorry it's so short, and most of all I'm sorry clark and bruce aren't even in it -A-


	4. I just realized I didn't name this chapter before, but i don't actually know what to name it *shrugs*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today on "Nobody in this fic is straight": Luthor's party

_“_                              _Would that he were prey_

_To my same frenzy, to that passion’s sway!”_

_-”Myrrha & Cinyras” from The Metamorphoses of Ovid _

* * *

 

Clark adjusted his glasses when the people surrounding him started to clamour over the new arrival. The man looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place how he recognized him. A Metropolis socialite? Judging by the fancy car and expensive suit, the man was clearly well off.

“Who’s that?” he asked to no one in particular.

“Are you kidding? That’s Bruce Wayne!” one of the men exclaimed. Ah, right. He knew he looked familiar.

“I guess I can’t really blame you for not recognizing him. He spent a few years as a recluse after that whole Joker fiasco in Gotham, Plus, he doesn’t usually come to grace Metropolis with his presence,” he smirked at Clark. Clark just hummed noncommittally in response.

He was far more focused on Mr. Wayne.

He watched as the man extended an arm to a beautiful woman, giving jovial smiles to the press. He was...incredibly handsome. Of that Clark could not deny.

For a split second he made eye contact with Mr Wayne, and it was like all the air got sucked out of his lungs. Vivid blue met icy blue, and for just a moment, time stopped for the man of steel.

And then it restarted, icy blue sweeping away to gaze at other sights.

Clark took a moment to remember how to breathe, tugging at his tie which suddenly felt too tight. The night had just begun and it was already full of surprises.

* * *

 

“Oooh, a speech. I think I’ll go find something else to do,” Selina said, slipping away to try and gather the files he needed from Lex Corp. He smiled, feigning ignorance of what she was about to do, and tried to keep up his Brucie persona. He may have picked the alter ego up again last year, but he was still getting used to it.

He clapped when Lex finished his “speech” and prepared to look around for an excuse to act like an air-headed billionaire with too much money and too many hormones.

“Mr. Wayne.” He looked up into the face of a man in a very unflattering suit who had stepped right in his path. His demeanor and appearance screamed “reporter” at him. A very attractive reporter, but a reporter all the same. He wasn’t really in the mood for an impromptu interview right now, but maybe he could use the other to his advantage. Nothing said “air-head” like hitting on the press while they tried to interview you.

“Well, hello there,” he said, making sure to sound unprofessional as possible. He gave the man a completely unsubtle once over. “And who might you be?”

The other man blinked in surprise before responding. “Clark Kent, for the Daily Planet. Would you mind if I asked you a few questions?”

“Oh, it’s my night off. This is a party after all. Maybe we can find something else to do,” he cooed softly. He ran a hand up the reporter’s surprisingly well toned arm. Which he was only doing to put up an act and not at all because he had been tempted to since the moment he’d set eyes upon him outside.

Clark, completely taken aback by this turn of events- he’d heard plenty about the famed playboy’s sexuality from Kat, but experiencing it was something else- blurted out the first thing that he could distract himself with.

“What’s your position on the bat vigilante in Gotham?” He was originally intending to ask him less intense questions about Luthor’s gala like Perry would have wanted to, but he was not acting rationally at the moment.

Bruce just stared at him blankly for a moment.

“Well, I must admit- I wasn’t expecting that,” he said, pulling away from him. Clark’s brain started to recircuit again. “Is this how you start all your interviews, Mr… Kip, was it?”

He swallowed. “Kent. Clark Kent. And no… I just figured you’d have a more advanced opinion on the subject than the residents of Metropolis.” There. That sounded like a reasonable explanation.

“Right. Well, I’m afraid I don’t really pay attention to such things. Not really my cup of tea. I don’t really see why I should be interested anyways. People dress up as all sorts of weird things in Gotham.”

Now Clark, investigative reporter and morally upstanding citizen that he was, couldn’t just leave it at that. “Civil liberties are being trampled on in your city. People living in fear. He thinks he’s above the law.”

Bruce sighed. Of course the cute reporter wouldn’t let it go that easily. Damn reporters.

“Brucie! Who’s your new friend?” Selina asked as she sidled up next to him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and took the champagne glass she offered him.

“Oh this is Mr. Kirk. He was asking what I thought about the Batman,” he replied. He smiled goofily at her, but he knew she could tell just how much he didn’t want to continue this conversation.

“It’s Kent,” Clark mumbled. He thought Mr. Wayne was painfully attractive, but not the sharpest crayon in the box. He tried to ignore how much it stung that the man didn’t even bother to learn his name after he’d told him twice.

“Hmm. Well, his questions will just have to wait until after you take a turn on the dance floor with me,” she purred as she led him away from the reporter.

Bruce spared the man a fleeting smile before turning back to his date.

“You came back earlier than I expected,” he said, pulling her in close as they waltzed around the room.

“That pretty Japanese lady Mr. Luthor keeps around found me poking around.”

“Oh? And how did you get out of that?”

“I just explained how rich little boys bore me from time to time and that I slipped away to find more refreshing company. Which I found in the form of a gorgeous Japanese goddess,” she smirked at him and he chuckled.

“And how did she take such a compliment?”

“Oh she was too polite to take me up on the offer- not while she was at work anyways. Who knows. Maybe I’ll cross the river more often.”

“I’m sure you’d enjoy the easy pickings. The citizens of Metropolis are a lot more trusting than the ones in Gotham. Did you get the other thing you were looking for?” His voice dropped lower at the last sentence. He took a quick peek at the couples surrounding them to make sure they weren’t listening.

“Not yet. Alfred said it would take a few minutes. I’ll go back and check when our dance is finished. And you can go back to that adorable piece of eye candy with the unbelievably blue eyes.” She smiled at him predatorily and he resisted the urge to sigh.

“What? Are you going to pretend you weren’t ready to climb all over that? Because I know you better than that, Bruce. You like to pretend like you hate reporters, yet that never stops you from pursuing Vicki Vale.”

“Selina, I have no idea what you’re talking about. And Vicki’s different. For one, she has an impeccable taste in fashion.” They both took a minute to scrutinize Mr. Kent’s poorly fitted suit and frown. It was such a shame he had to wear an atrocity like that when he had a face like an adonis.

“No argument there. However, our dance is ending, and I have things to do. Who knows- maybe you’ll find something to _do_ too,” she winked at him before slinking away.

He was left standing in the general vicinity of Mr. Kent, and he wondered if the other man would try to continue their conversation from before. He considered walking elsewhere on the pretense of speaking with someone else, but he didn’t know enough people at this party. The only one who he was more than vague acquaintances with was Lex. He really wasn’t interested in speaking to him though.

As fate would have it, he was actually forced to talk to not only Lex but also the handsome reporter. Fuck everything.

“Bruce! I’d like you to meet Clark Kent, reporter for the Daily Planet! He’s doing a piece on my little soiree, and I knew he just had to talk to our most interesting guest. It’s not everyday that you see Bruce Wayne in Metropolis,” Lex said, dragging Mr. Kent over to Bruce.

“Ah well, Mr. Wayne and I have already met,” Clark stuttered, a blush dusted across his cheeks.

“Really? Fascinating!” Lex oozed, rubbing his hands together. Not for the first time, Bruce noted that he looked like he was plotting something like a cartoon villain.

“We did, didn’t we?” Bruce smiled airily at the taller man, trying not to laugh as he turned a much more noticeable shade of red.

He suffered through a few more minutes of Lex talking, but he wasn’t paying much attention to what he said. He was far more occupied in watching Mr. Kent do his best not to make eye contact with him.

He wasn’t sure what it was about the reporter that made him so captivating. He was good looking, sure, but Bruce found a lot of people good looking. He certainly wasn’t distracted just from hot people being in his general area. He definitely prefered someone who was confident and had a certain aura of challenge about them.

Clark Kent was none of those things.

He had a very farmboy in a big city feel about him instead. There was power underlying his large frame, but he downplayed it by hunching in on himself. As a journalist under Perry White he must have had at least some backbone. Unfortunately it didn’t transfer over to his earlier conversation with Bruce. He had asked a hard hitting question, but he lacked the attitude needed to press Bruce for a compelling answer.

Yet _somehow_ Bruce couldn’t help but gravitate to the man.

He snapped out of his reverie when Lex bid them adieu and Mr. Kent made to follow his lead.

“So Mr. Kent,” he stepped in his path, eyelashes fluttering and smile in place.”Aren’t you going to interview me? I’m sure you could entertain me somehow.” His grin turned a little more genuine when the reporter finally met his eyes again.

“Uh, actually Mr. Wayne that won’t be necessary. In fact, I think your date’s coming over this way. I’m sure she has much more to keep you entertained with than me.” He gave him a slightly strained smile and made to leave again.

Clark was doing his utmost best not to think about what he and Mr. Wayne could be doing together. If only Mr. Wayne wasn’t so damn attractive.

It was a little easier when he looked at the man’s date and was reminded how extremely out of his league he was. After all, the woman he was with was breathtaking. She had silky brown hair cascading down her shoulders, chocolatey brown eyes, and an alluring dress that hugged her figure in all the right places. How the hell was Clark supposed to compete with that?

Plus, Clark was more of a long term relationship guy, not a one night stand kind. Mr. Wayne was the exact opposite of that.

There was something about the other man that made it hard for Clark to ignore him though.

It wasn’t just his ridiculously attractive appearance either. Mr. Wayne seemed a little ditzy, sure, but there was something hiding under that goofy exterior that called to Clark. He didn’t know what it was; he just had a hunch that there was more to Bruce Wayne than meets the eye. That same hunch told him that he’d really like it.

Stupid hunches.

“Sorry, I have to be going now,” he mumbled, stepping past the billionaire.

He didn’t turnaround to see Bruce watching him as he walked away, but he could feel his eyes on his back.

“Did you get it then?” Bruce turned to Selina after he couldn’t see Clark past the throngs of partygoers.

She sipped delicately at a flute of champagne. “I did. But I don’t have it anymore. I lent it to someone else.” She ran a hand down his chest.

Bruce, momentarily distracted, stood there for a minute before what she said sunk in.

“You did what?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I submit to you Selina Kyle: best friend, friend with benefits, and ultimate wingman
> 
> Note: I'm writing this all on google docs since I don't have a laptop to use word on, so if there's more spelling/grammatical errors than usual that's why lol. Life without a laptop sucks. 
> 
> I've decided that I'm going to draw out the timeline of the movie a lot longer so that I can develop Bruce and Clark's great big boners for each other better. So there's going to be more Brucie meeting Clark kind of stuff. 
> 
> P.S. dunno when this will be updated since I don't have a laptop to write on and I'm only using this desktop while my mom's gone. Three cheers for being a broke college student lmao


	5. The Night is Long and Restless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure I had actual notes for this, but I don't remember what they were lol

_Alcyone, still in her sleep, began_

_to mourn and weep; she tried to reach her man_

_with outstretched arms; she wanted to embrace_

_his body, but it was thin air she clasped._

_She cried: "Wait, wait for me! Where do you flee!_

_Let me go, too, with you!" Her own loud plea_

_and Ceyx' image woke the anxious wife;_

_and, first, she looked around to see if he_

_whom she had seen just now was at her side._

_-"Ceyx & Alcyone" from The Metamorphoses of Ovid_

* * *

 

Bruce was fucking tired. There was no other way to put it. First he had to deal with all this superman shit, then Selina let some hot mysterious lady take his flash drive, and now he was being held hostage at a big charity gala. He was so fucking done.

He wished he could just knock these goons out, but unfortunately he had shown up as Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy who was weak and cowardly, instead of Batman. So unless he wanted to reveal his secret identity- boy, what a headline that would make- he would have to play dumb.

He hoped John was alright.

John Blake, after quitting the police force, had been offered the unique job of being Bruce Wayne's body guard. It was useful to have him around because he knew who Bruce really was and was more than willing to help him hide it. Also, he was a good friend to Bruce. He didn't have many of those left.

John had left some time ago to check up on a lead with the White Portuguese. Bruce had let him go because it seemed like the night was just going to be simple and full of air-headed aristocrats. He was wrong.

Tonight he and everyone else at the gala had the honor of being Scarecrow's test subjects for his newest toxin. At least, he was pretty sure that was what Dr. Crane was saying. It was a little hard to understand him through the mask, especially if he wasn't right in front of him punching his lights out.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen it looks like it's time to get the real party started. Oh, but before I forget-" Scarecrow began before waving at a couple of his lackeys. Bruce started when they stalked up to him and grabbed him by the arms, dragging him towards the deranged man. "Every party needs a guest of honor. Tonight that will be the ever charitable Mr. Wayne. You get a special concentrated dose," he said, leaning uncomfortably close to Bruce's face to whisper to him.

It took all his energy not to head butt him. He had to stay calm. He had to figure out a way to save everyone while he was still in his Brucie persona. Yes, he had to figure out how an airhead like Brucie would get them out of this situation.

....

Yeah, he had nothing. Fuck his life; he just wanted to take a nap.

"Just take a deep breath, and everything will be fine," Scarecrow crooned at him as his goons tied Bruce to a chair against the wall. Apparently being the guest of honor meant being restrained while everyone around you tried to tear each other apart. They'd probably try to tear him apart too now that he thought of it. The night kept getting better and better.

Scarecrow's men wasted no time in slipping on their masks and releasing gas bombs full of fear toxin into the crowds. Bruce tried to hold his breath, mind going a mile a minute to try and figure out what to do.

Unfortunately Scarecrow was not as dumb as his ridiculous mask and had anticipated that option. He punched Bruce hard in the stomach, making him gasp in response, giving the villain the perfect opportunity to spray his concentrated dose right in his face.

The effects were almost immediate, and amidst the screaming and the smoke Bruce sat paralyzed in fear.

He knew those figure looming through the smoke were just regular people, he was at a gala, they weren't bad people- but every cell in his body was screaming that he was in danger. He had to get out of there. He had to get away. He had to- He had to do something.

He took great heaving breaths, unknowingly making his condition even worse, and struggled to get out of his bonds. He had tried to make it easier to escape when they had tied him up, but he wasn't thinking straight. At that point it would have been a miracle if he could put a key in a lock.

 _Think, Bruce, think_ , he screamed internally to himself. The ropes. He had to get out of the ropes. He had to get away.

But the screams. Distorted figures pushing and pulling at each other through the smoke. It was so hard to breathe.

Then they appeared like ghosts in the hazy air.

Harvey's mangled face sneering at him, his left eye bulbous and glaring and his teeth glinting through the scraps of skin where his mouth used to be. And beside him she stood like a marble statue. She looked as beautiful as she had in life, although now she appeared cold and pale. The sight of Rachel almost made him cry. Not a day passed that he didn't miss her.

She stepped gracefully before him and leant over to brush a hand down the side of his face. She smiled benevolently, and he stopped struggling against the ropes constricting him. She was there to save him- he was sure of it. Rachel had always been the one to save him....

Before he realized what was happening she had whipped her hand back to grab onto his face, nails biting painfully into his cheek.

"Bruce," she said "How could you do this to me? I thought you loved me." Her voice was icy enough to send shivers down his spine.

Then right before his eyes she started to fall apart. Her eyes lost their warm brown hue and turned milky white. Her skin began to flake off and melt in patches, until white bone shown through. The smell of her burning hair and flesh permeated the air.

He screamed.

* * *

Clark usually kept out of Gotham. Being in the Batman's territory wasn't a very pleasant idea. For one, he wasn't in the mood to deal with the vigilante who rubbed him all wrong. For another, Gotham seemed to be crawling with criminals- both the mundane and the extraordinary kind. And when he said extraordinary he meant the kind that were even crazier than the Batman and had the power to destroy the city. Lastly, Gothamites didn't seem to appreciate him being there in general. Something about how somebody who didn't live in the city couldn't understand it. And well, he couldn't really argue with that. Gotham made zero sense to him.

That night was different though. He couldn't help but be concerned when he heard the screaming break out. It was unusual for so many people in one place to be so scared. He turned his attention towards Gotham and tried to figure out what was causing the disturbance.

He listened intently, but it was difficult to pinpoint just what the problem was. Usually there were people shouting what it was, like "fire!" or gunshots or something to give it away. But these people were just screaming incoherently. Either that or they were spewing completely unrelated things. It didn't make sense.

Then like a light flickering in the dark he heard it: gas. It was quiet, but around the screams of horror there were people talking in hushed whispers about a scarecrow and gas that was fogging up all the windows. He guessed that these people were outside of the building this was all going down in and watching in horror.

He sprang into action, whipping away to Gotham as fast as he could.

The city was confusing to him, but that wasn't going to stop him from helping those poor people.

* * *

When he found the building he was looking for he dropped down beside a police cruiser that was parked there.

"Officers. What's the situation here?" he asked. He had a vague idea, but it couldn't hurt to ask anyways. They might have more information that he could use.

The cop startled at his sudden appearance but shook it off. "Scarecrow showed up not too long ago. He released some of his toxins in the building during the charity gala that was being held up there." He pointed to the upper levels of the building where Clark could still see the gas billowing around.

"We're waiting for backup to arrive with gas masks. We can't go in there without them or we'll just make it worse," he said, grabbing at his hair in frustration. He was middle aged and clearly experienced with these kinds of situations, so Clark didn't bother asking what he meant. He already felt like an outsider here- no need to make it more obvious.

On the other hand, he didn't want to screw everything up just because it made him uncomfortable to ask a question.

Clark didn't know who Scarecrow was, but clearly they were deranged. "Why would Scarecrow do that?" he asked. What was the point of all this? Was there something valuable he was trying to steal? But if it was that wouldn't he have an easier time if there were less people there?

"I don't know, man. Scarecrow doesn't have rhyme or reason for what he does. The first time he showed up he doused the whole city in this shit."

Clark held back a sigh. "I'm going in. It won't affect me because I'm not human." He leapt upwards without waiting to hear what the cop was saying, crashing through a window where the smoke was thickest. 

He couldn't just stand around and wait when there were people breathing in these toxins. They didn't seem to be deadly since there were so many people still stumbling around in the smoke, but he had forgotten to ask what the toxins did exactly. All he knew was that these people were terrified.

When he flew through the window everyone nearby scattered in terror. They didn't seem to understand he was there to help. The closest person nearby was a man tied up with ropes to a chair. He was sobbing and crying out to someone else.

Clark swept closer to the man before he nearly tripped in shock.

He hadn't expected to see Bruce Wayne there, much less in such a state of distress.

Ever since that night at Luthor's fundraiser he'd been plagued by thoughts of Mr. Wayne. Never had he ever imagined seeing the man like this. It had been impossible for Clark to picture him as anything but the suave playboy with the charming smile.

It felt wrong to witness him like this.

But Clark couldn't move. He was frozen, watching the man cry at the empty air.

Bruce was sobbing, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, and if he weren't tied to the backrest Clark was sure he would have crumpled onto the floor. His eyes were red, and they were full of so much pain. He wondered what could have hurt Bruce Wayne so much to do this to him.

Through the sobs he heard him plead to the fog, so quiet and broken that it made Clark's chest squeeze in sympathy.

"I'm so sorry. Please, I'm so sorry. I wanted to save you. I didn't mean for it to happen. Please, don't go. I love you, I promise. I'm sorry. I'll give up everything. Just come back to me. Please, Rachel I'm so sorry. You were right just don't leave me. _Please_ ," he begged. He was pulling against his restraints as if he was trying to reach out to someone.

Clark suddenly realized what Scarecrow's toxins did to people. They broke them. From the inside out.

The name Rachel ringed a bell in his mind.

He wouldn't admit it, but he had done some research on Bruce Wayne after the party Luthor held. He learned about the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne and how their son had watched the whole thing. He learned about Joe Chill's death. He learned about Bruce's mysterious disappearance and sudden return from the dead. He learned about how he'd burned down his mansion in a drunken fit. He learned about how he became a recluse after his best friend had died.

That's why he knew her name. Rachel Dawes. She had been the assistant DA to Harvey Dent. She died in an explosion, murdered by the Joker.

"I'm sorry," Bruce whispered. He slumped in defeat.

Clark snapped out of his daze and stepped closer to the man. "Mr. Wayne." He couldn't let Bruce tear himself apart like this.

He reached out a hand with the intention of setting it on the other's shoulder to comfort him, but Bruce started violently in response. The broken look in his eyes changed to one of pure terror.

Unbeknownst to Clark, Bruce was seeing one of his worst nightmares. How could Clark know how much Superman scared him?

Of course, the fear toxin was making it much worse than it normally would have been. Normal Bruce had finely cultivated his fear under fifty layers of loathing. Drugged Bruce was just a little kid standing in shock after watching his parent's get gunned down for some pearls and his father's wallet.

In his vision Superman loomed over him, indestructible and menacing, eyes glowing red with unshed rage. The hand reaching out to him was going to crush him effortlessly. He was coming to snuff out the Batman.

In reality Clark flinched back from his advance when Bruce began to scream and throw himself ferociously against the ropes binding him. He struggled so fiercely that one of his arms managed to break free, and before he knew it Clark found himself being shoved back by a forceful kick to his abdomen.

He gasped at the unexpected impact, stumbling into the wall. He didn't have time to recollect himself though because Bruce was on him again in an instant.

He ducked under the barrage of attacks and wondered just how badly he had misjudged the man after their first encounter. It seemed Bruce was just full of surprises. If Clark hadn't been...well, Superman, he had no doubt he'd be incapacitated by now. Bruce was a well trained fighter.

Fortunately Clark was stronger and also in his right mind. After a few minutes of struggle he finally managed to scoop Bruce up and throw him over his shoulder. The other man was still pounding his fists against his back and kicking him, but at least it didn't hurt much.

Of course, now that he had put himself in this position Clark realized he had no idea where to go next.

It was excellent timing that the police chose that moment to sweep into the room and take control of the situation. They split into groups- the majority went to restrain the other occupants of the room while the rest opened the windows and brought in fans to disperse the remaining gas.

One of them came up to Clark after he noticed the billionaire currently in his grasp.

"Superman. You're not the caped crusader I was expecting to see here," he said. He almost sounded disappointed. Clark blinked at him and took in his appearance.

He was middle aged, and his brown hair was graying at the edges. He had square glasses settled on the bridge of his nose and wore a tan trench coat. With his enhanced vision he saw the badge that marked him as commissioner.

"You mean the Batman. I didn't think the police would want to see a violent vigilante on the scene," Clark said, voice strained. Bruce had finally taken a break from trying to beat him black and blue.

"We can't all have our own Superman," was all the other man said, eyeing him speculatively. Clark clenched his jaw.

The other man seemed to sag a little under his gaze before gesturing towards Bruce. "Need a hand with him? We're taking all the infected to the hospital while we do some bloodwork on them. Not much else to do until we figure out how to cure it."

Clark tightened his grip on Bruce minutely. He was reluctant to let him go after everything he'd seen that night.

But he was probably right about taking him to the hospital.

"I'll take him. Gotham General isn't too far from here. Are the Staff aware of what's happening?"

The other man looked at him in surprise. "Well, yes we called them in advance. Are you sure though? It's fine if you don't-"

"It's not a problem," he interrupted. He didn't give the commissioner another chance to stop him before he flew out of the window.

In retrospect it might have been better to let Bruce stay with the commissioner. As soon as they were out of the building he started to struggle in Clark's grip again. He had to be very careful not to drop him.

* * *

As soon as he touched down at the hospital's emergency entrance a team of paramedics came out to take Bruce from him, strapping him down to a gurney and wheeling him away.

They thanked Superman for bringing him there and then politely told him to leave.

Clark, uncomfortable with leaving Bruce but understanding when he was being dismissed, left reluctantly.

Just because he had to leave the hospital that didn't mean he couldn't watch over Bruce. He hid himself away on the rooftop of an adjacent building and stayed there while they continued to wheel in more patients.

It wasn't until after swarms of reporters showed up that he found an excuse to return to the hospital.

* * *

"Mr. Blake! How is Mr. Wayne's condition?"

"Mr. Blake, is it true what they're saying about Superman rescuing Mr. Wayne?"

"Mr. Blake! How does it feel having your employer in danger while you weren't there to do your job?"

He stormed away from the reporters, refusing to interact with them at all. Damn vultures.

He walked quickly down the hallway, nodding to the receptionist as he made his way back to Bruce's room.

It had taken a while, but with the blood sample they had slipped from Bruce Lucius had created an antidote to the toxin. John clutched it in his pocket to make sure it was still there.

Tonight was a disaster.

He'd gone to investigate a lead about the White Portuguese, leaving Bruce on his own. It shouldn't have been a problem- Bruce was more than capable of taking care of himself. Tonight had just been a particularly unlucky night. He hadn't even learned anything useful while he was away. His lead had petered into nothing.

Now Bruce was knocked out in a hospital bed to keep him from tearing people apart. People like Superman apparently.

Commissioner Gordon had stopped by briefly to explain what had happened. He told them that once they had gotten inside they found Superman standing in a corner with Bruce tossed over his shoulder while his employer raged against him. He said Superman had insisted on taking Bruce to Gotham General himself and hadn't waited for anyone to dissuade him.

John thought it was fucking weird. He knew for a fact that Bruce had never met Superman prior to that night. If he had John would have heard him complain about it until his ears fell off.

There was no way Bruce was going to be happy when he found out about it.

He shook off the thought when he reached the door to Bruce's room. He knocked gently on it before stepping quietly into the room.

Selina looked up at him hopefully and sighed in relief when he pulled out the serum.

They had an unspoken agreement to have one of them stay by Bruce's side whenever he was unable to take care of himself. Alfred would have been there too, but they had convinced him to stay at the manor and get things prepped so Bruce could relax when he got home.

"Those reporters still out there?" she asked, a delicate eyebrow rose.

He sighed. "Yeah, well it's not every day Superman shows up in Gotham."

She hummed, turning back to Bruce and stroking his arm thoughtfully. "I'll go take care of them in a minute. You think that's going to work?" She looked pointedly at the syringe he was prepping.

"You doubt Mr. Fox's abilities?" he said, not looking away from his work. She shook her head.

He felt around for a vein and injected the antidote into Bruce's arm. They watched Bruce with baited breath, although they both knew that it wouldn't be obvious until the morphine wore off.

"I think I might punch him when he wakes up," she told him.

* * *

Bruce peeled his eyes open and nearly closed them again at the harsh light shining in his face, He groaned.

"Bruce?" someone asked to his left. He thought it was his left anyway. His mind was a little...blurry.

"Rachel?" he croaked. The voice was too deep to be hers, but he could have sworn he'd just been with her.

"Bruce are you feeling okay? We got Lucius to make an antidote- we've already given the extras to the cops. Left a little note from Batman. It also explained that you were already dosed with it," John's face hovered over him, a worried crease digging its way between his eyebrows.

Oh. That's right. It couldn't be Rachel because she was dead. Had been for years.

Selina's voice cut through the silence, "I'm going to tell those reporters to scram. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid like get out of bed." She breezed out of the room with a pointed look at them.

"Do you remember what happened?" John helped him sit up and propped some pillows underneath his back to keep him upright.

Bruce took a moment to collect his thoughts. What _had_ happened?

"Scarecrow showed up. Couldn't slip away. Gave me a concentrated dose," he mumbled. Everything after that got a little more complicated. Obviously Rachel and Harvey hadn't actually shown up to torture him. They were dead. All they could do now was haunt him. Superman on the other hand....

"Uh, yeah, that part was at least partially real. Superman showed up to save you," John said, making it apparent that Bruce had been saying all that out loud and not just in his head.

"He actually brought you here," John's voice snapped him out of his reverie. Also, what?

"Why would he do that?" he wondered aloud.

"No idea, but the reporters are going out of their damn minds. You're going to have to figure out something to tell them eventually. I doubt they're just going to let it go." Bruce grimaced at that. He was right. There was no way they wouldn't hound him for an explanation.

Ugh.

The door clicked open and Bruce turned to face Selina. He was about to ask her for her input when she stepped into the room and revealed the figure behind her.

He stared at the door in surprise.

"Mr. Kent."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If only Batman were real- he would have the funds to go against Dump Trump as Bruce Wayne, and show up as Batman to fucKING PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE
> 
> I'm very bitter and full of rage, and this is going to be the longest 4 years of my and everyone else's lives. God willing that we all actually last that long (stay safe guys, esp. you lovely poc, muslim, jewish, and LGBTQ+ peeps)
> 
> And if the need ever arises and you feel safe enough to do so then PUNCH A FUCKING NAZI IN THE THROAT  
> They deserve it.


	6. We Both Have Two Faces, But We're Not Two-Faced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's gonna be a lot of perspective changes that i was too lazy to put in a coherent non-confusing way so sorry about that lol

_ “You were a code _

_ I yearned to decipher.-” _

_ -Excerpt from “In Memory of Joe Brainard” by Frank Bidart _

* * *

When Clark had joined the swarms of reporters outside the hospital, he hadn’t expected to be pulled out among the crowd and dragged down the hallway by a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman who seemed strangely familiar.

Oh Rao, was the woman pulling him through the hospital Mr. Wayne’s date from Luthor’s gala? What was she doing here? Everything he heard about Mr. Wayne made him seem like the non-dating, one night stand, casual sex kind of guy, who never had the same girl on his arm twice, so seriously, what was she doing there? It was purely his investigative instincts kicking in and had absolutely nothing to do with jealousy. Why would he have any reason to be jealous? He  _ didn’t _ . And he totally wasn’t. 

Besides, he didn’t even know for sure that she was there for Mr. Wayne. 

It suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea why she was dragging him around, or why she had singled him out in the first place. 

When she had appeared outside all she had said was that the reporters all had to “back the fuck off, and wait until Brucie chose someone to have an exclusive interview with. Then she had locked eyes with him and grabbed him by the wrist before unceremoniously dragging him away from the rest of the group. She didn’t say why, and he had been too startled to ask. 

Just when he had regained some of his sense to ask her why she had spirited him away she shoved him ahead of her into one of the rooms. A room that was currently occupied by none other than Bruce Wayne himself. Well, him and his bodyguard, who was eyeing Clark questioningly. 

“Mr. Kent,” Mr. Wayne’s voice was soft and surprised. And damn him- the fact that he got Clark’s name right should not have put butterflies in his stomach. It didn’t help that even though the man was missing his suit jacket, had bloodshot eyes, and overall looked like he had been through one hell of a bender, he still somehow managed to appear attractively disheveled. 

“Er… Hello, Mr. Wayne,” he managed to stumble out. He shuffled around awkwardly on his feet, eyes darting around the room. Oh Rao, what was he doing here?! He belonged in this room as much as a winged zebra taking a dump did. 

Bruce’s eyes only lingered on him for a second before moving on to the person behind him. “Selina, I thought you were going to get rid of the reporters, but now you’ve brought them with you,” he said, smiling amusedly at Clark. The little crinkles at the edge of his eyes shouldn’t have been so adorable, but Clark couldn’t seem to stop staring at them. 

“Well, I did, but this one was so cute I had to bring him along. He just looked so concerned,” she cooed, running a hand down his arm and sending Bruce a sly look. Clark blushed and tried to surreptitiously step away from her. Her grin widened. 

She glanced at Bruce and saw the flat look on his face. Too tired to play games for longer than a few seconds apparently. “Oh, Brucie. Don’t look like that. I just figured it would be easiest for you to give an exclusive interview to this nice, muscular gentleman instead of wading through all those reporters outside.”

Clark blinked. Is that what he was there for? Huh. Well, at least Perry would be thrilled. 

Bruce tried to put on a convincing smile. “Ah. I see. Well, how could I refuse that? After all, it does seem like an easy ticket out of this mess.” What a lie that was. It probably would have been easier if he’d just called up the most prominent news station and promised an appearance in a few days when he’d come up with a believable story. 

“John and I will wait outside then,” Selina said, pulling an unhappy John into the hallway and shutting the door. 

There was awkward silence for a few moments after their disappearance. Bruce couldn’t be bothered to pretend like he was 100% Brucie after everything that night, and Clark was still frankly trying to figure out how he had gotten into the situation. 

“Aren’t you going to interview me, Mr. Reporter?” Bruce asked. The corners of his mouth had lifted ever so slightly in a real smile. It made Clark’s throat go dry. 

He cleared his throat rather loudly and readjusted his tie before getting down to business. “Um, right. There are reports, Mr. Wayne, that Superman was the one to bring you to this hospital. Is that true?”

Bruce paused, frowning slightly and eyes raised to the ceiling as if her were thinking about how to answer that. “Well…. I’ve been told that was what happened. I can’t actually remember much myself. It does seem weird that he’d come all the way over here from Metropolis though. Not really his usual territory, is it?”

Clark had to bite back the response that Superman didn’t really have a jurisdiction and that traveling to Gotham was actually quite easy for him. He pulled up a seat near the bed instead. 

“There were also rumours that said you were trying to attack Superman while he was helping you. Care to explain why that happened?”

For a half a second something flashed in Bruce’s eyes that was so unlike the playboy billionaire he’d met so far that it made Clark’s blood run cold. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by an airy smile and a tilted head. “Goodness. Those drugs really do something to you. Can’t imagine why I would try attacking some super powered alien. Not like it would do anything,” he laughed with a hint of self depreciation. 

If there was one thing Mr. Wayne had in common with Clark it was their confusion as to why a pretty boy socialite would be trying to beat up Superman. 

They went through some more standard questions about the event- why Scarecrow had shown up, what he wanted, etc. Occasionally Bruce would throw in something suggestive and make bedroom eyes at the reporter to keep him from getting too suspicious about how tame Brucie was acting.

“Is there anything you wanted to, um, say to Superman if you could?” Clark stuttered as he frantically scribbled down answers in his notebook. He chose to ignore the comment Mr. Wayne had made about taking “that awful checkered shirt off” if it was getting too hot for him. 

“Hmm… I suppose I should apologize for hitting him. Unless you think he’s into that kind of thing,” he smirked at him. 

Clark took an audible gulp of air. “I...really wouldn’t know, Mr. Wayne.”

“Oh? Maybe you should ask him next time you interview him.”

“Actually, Lois- Miss Lane- is the one who interviews Superman. I’ve never met him.”

“Hmm…”

Clark stared at Mr. Wayne for a few more seconds, unsure if he was going to say anything more. He looked rather tired- which would make sense after everything he’d gone through. Clark felt a sudden swell of guilt for hounding him for a scoop instead of letting him rest. Then again, he hadn’t been particularly stern with his questioning, and he hadn’t even been the one to insist on an interview. 

Mr. Wayne sagged a little farther into the hospital sheets.

“Any other questions, Mr. Reporter?”

_ Why don’t you use my name if you know it? _

“Um, no, I think I’ve got everything I need. Sorry for taking up your time, Mr. Wayne. You should get some rest,” Clark said. And he sincerely meant it. The poor- if he could ever really be called that- man looked like he was two seconds from falling asleep.

He got a wan smile in response. “You know, for once I just might. But not until I get home, I think. Hospitals are just so… inhospitable. At least they didn’t shove me in one of those ghastly hospitable gowns. Normally I enjoy someone else undressing me, but those gowns are so unseemly. I look quite terrible in them.”

Clark let out a delicate snort. “Somehow I doubt that,” he mumbled. He didn’t notice the blue eyes flick over to him at that comment or the smile threatening to overtake Bruce’s face.

Bruce huffed as he tossed the sheets off his lower body and stood shakily to his feet. Clark almost held out a hand to steady him, but before he could someone else beat him to it.

WIthout him noticing, Mr. Wayne’s bodyguard had reentered the room and taken the billionaire into his arms, slipping his own jacket over his shoulders. And no, Clark did not feel a flare of jealousy over that. It was just...his small town manners that made him upset that he hadn’t thought of it first. 

“Well, goodbye then, Mr… what was it? Karr?” Mr. Wayne asked, leaning heavily on his bodyguard. 

“Kent,” Clark corrected, a little disappointed. “And good night, Mr. Wayne,” he said as he swept out of the room.

Bruce watched him leave and did his best not to collapse. Using up all that adrenalin when he was drugged halfway to hell hadn’t left him with much energy. 

“You going to be alright?” John asked, shifting his weight to help keep Bruce upright. 

Bruce hummed in affirmation. “Should be. Just need a nap. I think I’ll skip patrol tonight.” He moved toward the door but stumbled over his own feet. 

“Whoa there.” John caught him by the arm. “You want me to carry you? I bet the reporters out there would get a real kick out of it,” John joked. He was probably right too. Bruce had seen more than a few tabloids suggesting that John’s title as bodyguard was nothing more than a flimsy disguise for keeping him around for sex. 

Bruce snorted. “No, I think one arm is enough. Where’s Selina by the way?”

“She left to go take care of business. Something about a hot Greek woman that could toss her over her shoulder anytime she wanted. But on the topic of reporters and people throwing other people over their shoulders, that guy who just left looked a prime candidate for you.”

Bruce groaned. “Oh God, not you too.”

“What? I was a detective you know. I mean not for very long, but I was one. And that guy had even more muscle than you do, and you beat criminals to a pulp at night. His are a little different though. More like the hard labor type instead of relentless hours spent at your private gym kind. Maybe he was a farmer or something.”

“Please for the love of all good things, can we not continue this conversation? If you keep it up you really will have to carry me to the car because I’m not going to have any energy left.”

John just laughed before leading him away from the hospital room. 

And that should have been that between Bruce and Clark Kent. But of course it wasn’t. 

* * *

There were certain times in his life that Bruce wished he wasn’t so fabulously wealthy. While he stood freezing his ass off on top of a skyscraper was one of them.

He wasn’t sure why the Joker enthusiasts thought sticking him out here was a good idea. One of them said they were pulling off the heist in the clown’s honor, and somehow that included sticking the wealthiest man in the building up on the too tiny roof. Seriously the roof was made 90% of a spire that was more for aesthetic purposes than any functional ones. 

He was just seconds away from going back to the rooftop access panel and kicking it in, and then kicking the asses of those stupid thugs. Screw keeping his identity secret it was fucking freezing up there. 

Fortunately for him, he did not end up giving away his secret identity as the Batman, since another caped crusader showed up to rescue him. 

Unfortunately, it was the one person he absolutely did not want to see, much less be saved by.

“Care for a lift, Mr. Wayne?” Superman asked, hovering in the air a few feet away. 

Bruce wanted to punch him for showing his face in his city. It probably would have broken his fist though. Also, there was something in the way he said his name that was ringing bells hysterically in the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure why that was happening, but he figured he’d listen to them for once. 

“Ah. Superman,” he smiled pleasantly instead of breaking his fist on the other’s handsome face. A handsome face that for some reason was giving him serious farm boy vibes. “We meet at last. Or again, I suppose. But I’m not sure the last time really counts,” he simpered. 

It was harder to tell with the alien floating in the dark somewhat smoggy sky of Gotham, but it almost looked like he was blushing. It was oddly- and annoyingly- endearing. He hadn’t even turned up the charm yet. 

“I suppose not. May I take you somewhere safer?” Superman asked, drifting a little closer.

“You mean somewhere private?” Bruce asked coyly. He slid a finger up the muscled chest in front of him. Superman coughed suddenly. 

“I, um, was just going to set you down on the street, but if there was somewhere else you’d rather be taken…”

“Well, I do prefer to be taken in beds, but I guess if you really want to get freaky then the street will do.” He smiled wolfishly up at the other man. He was clearly blushing now.

Clark meanwhile, tried not to have a heart attack. It was hardly the first time someone had propositioned him while he was in the suit, but for some reason when Bru-  _ Mr. Wayne _ did it, it always left him flustered. 

“Sorry, I- I have to keep- doing other things. Important things,” he stumbled out. Oh, if only Jor-El could see him now. Or Pa. Or heaven forbid  _ Ma _ . 

Before he could embarrass himself further he scooped Mr. Wayne up in his arms and flew off the building. 

It ended up being a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he wasn’t saying anything else stupid. A curse because now he knew how it felt to have Bruce Wayne cradled in his arms. 

There was no screaming on Mr. Wayne’s part, which Clark was grateful for since he hadn’t given the man any warning before sending them over the edge of the roof into the open air. There had only been a quiet gasp and a light clenching of fists in his suit. Mr. Wayne’s heartbeat had only sped up for a second before returning to its regular tempo, which was strange to Clark. Even Lois’ heartbeat sped up whenever he flew with her, and she had done it multiple times. 

Kat had told him that Mr. Wayne was a bit of a thrillseeker, base jumping and skydiving, and other things like that, so maybe that was why. Or maybe there was something wrong with him. Oh Rao, what if he’d been drugged with something else like the last time he’d rescued him?!

“Mr. Wayne, are you alright?” he blurted out, unable to get rid of the hint of concern in his voice. 

Bruce just blinked at him. “...Yes?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just- after last time- you weren’t drugged or anything were you? Most people- their heart rate usually gets a little higher, but yours is perfect- perfectly fine.” Mr. Wayne’s eyes widened at that, and there was a little stutter in his pulse. Clark suddenly wondered if he had triggered something bad, but the billionaire was perfectly collected the next moment. 

“Ah. Nope. I had a few drinks. That might be it.”

Clark wasn’t completely convinced by the explanation, but he decided not to press it. If Mr. Wayne didn’t want to tell him, then he didn’t have to. 

Clark just really wished he would. The more time he spent with the other man the more questions he needed answered. It was so strange. It was almost like Mr. Wayne had two different personalities. There was the one face that Clark knew that flirted relentlessly and had money flooding out of his pockets. Then there was the other face, that popped up unexpectedly and was a total mystery each time. It made him wonder who Mr. Wayne really was. 

“Not that I don’t enjoy the view up here, but we’ve been hovering in the same spot for a while now. Having second thoughts about going somewhere private?” Mr. Wayne’s voice broke through his thoughts. 

Clark startled, realizing that the other man was right and flushing again. His face felt so hot he was sure that it was going to turn permanently red. 

“Oh, no I- sorry. Got a little lost in my thoughts, that’s all,” he said, continuing their descent downwards. 

Apparently Mr. Wayne wasn’t the only one who noticed their hovering in the sky because there was a crowd of reporters waiting for them below. Clark winced internally, wishing that his profession didn’t require people being at the heart of a story at all times. 

They touched down in a clear space, giving them a few precious seconds alone before getting mobbed by journalists. Clark cleared his throat, and set the other man on the ground before addressing him. “Well, goodnight, Mr. Wayne. The police seem to have the situation under control now, so I’ll just...be leaving.” That’s what he said, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to remove his hands from the shorter man’s waist. 

Mr. Wayne smirked at him, putting a finger to his soft looking lips and tilting his head up as though he were considering something. 

“I can’t help but feel as though I’m forgetting something. Usually when people rescue the damsel in distress she has to repay him somehow, doesn’t she? What was is that she would do?”

“Uh, you really don’t have to repay me for anything, Mr. Wayne. I’m here to help, and that’s all-”

“Oh yes,” Mr. Wayne cut him off. “I remember now.” 

And that was all the warning Clark got before Mr. Wayne tugged on the front of his suit to bring their mouths crashing together in a heated kiss. 

Distantly, Clark could hear the sound of cameras flashing and people going wild, but it all faded away into background noise for him. 

They pulled apart only seconds later, but to the man of steel it felt like it had been hours. Wonderful, wonderful hours. Sometime during the kiss one of Clark’s hands had come up to rest on the back of Mr. Wayne’s neck. He had to keep from pulling the billionaire back in when he moved away, letting his hand drop limply to his side. 

He tried not to stare when Mr. Wayne licked his lips, but it was pretty difficult not to when he knew just how they felt against his. 

“Well, Superman...it’s been fun, but I was planning on having some fun tonight. And since you oh so kindly refused, I’ll just have to find another partner elsewhere.” He gave him one last smug smile before turning around and waving off the masses with his regular aura of charm and nonchalance. 

Clark chose to forego dealing with the reporters that night and shot off into the distance, flying as fast as he could back home to Metropolis. And although the wind whipped past his face, it did nothing to get rid of the memory of Bruce Wayne on his lips. 

And if he kept an ear tuned in on a certain billionaire’s whereabouts… Well, that was nobody else’s business. 

...Even if it did result in his flying to Gotham more often to help him out of sticky situations. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yooooo sorry it's been so long my laptop died (for the 3rd time) but my mom finally hooked her desktop back up again, so here I am
> 
> Bruce you dumb fuck you're supposed to be one of the world's greatest detectives figure it out already
> 
> Clark get ready for your ma to confront you about that kiss cuz that's gonna happen lmao


	7. Listen to Your Mothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Today's Episode: Women Tell It How It Is

_The mind is a ticking time bomb_

_Itching to go off_

_Impatiently it waits in the calm_

_Bang, bang, it might be over_

_In one little moment_

_Before you know it_

_It's all gone_

_-"Never Let Me Go" by Family Force 5_

* * *

The days dragged by for Bruce, and the nights drew on even longer. He was working too hard- according to Alfred- but he didn't have time to sit back and relax. Everything was threatening to come falling apart around him. The Board at work were as belligerent as ever since Bane's reckoning, crime rates in Gotham still hadn't fallen from the incident, Lex Luthor wouldn't stop annoying him for a collaboration, and Superman continued to be a problem. It was like the Universe was waving a big sign in his face that read, "Give it up, Bruce!"

God, he needed to punch something.

The worst of it was definitely Superman. He had this uncanny ability to show up whenever Bruce Wayne was in trouble. It drove him insane because this meant that he had to continue playing the airheaded, incompetent idiot instead of solving things himself. And the stupid motherfucker was always so polite and concerned about him. He was probably worried that Brucie would walk under a windowsill and get killed by a flowerpot that fell off. Plus there was that whole heartbeat thing Superman had told him about, so maybe that's why he always knew when Brucie was in danger. Good thing he added that fake heartbeat regulator to the batsuit after that little chat.

Yeah, sure, Superman seemed nice _now_. But no matter how sweet or adorably flustered the alien acted, Bruce was not going to let his guard down. No sir, he would not fall for that innocent act. No matter how cute the other was. No sir.

He sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. He should take a shower. Showers were nice. Maybe if he dissociated hard enough he'd forget about the whole mess.

He was about to follow through on that thought when John walked into the Bat cave.

"Hey, Selina just dropped this off. It's the files from Luthor's gala- apparently she and her Greek crush met up again and she was able to get it back," he said, walking up to hand it to him.

Well, so much for that shower. This took top priority, and he was not going to waste a single second to get to his answers.

"Thanks, John." He turned back to his monitor and plugged it into one of the access ports.

A loading bar appeared on the screen to tell him how fast his decryption program was working. Half a minute passed and all it reached was two percent. He resisted the urge to put his head in his hands and scream.

"Looks like that's going to take a while. Maybe you should go get some rest, Bruce. I can watch this thing inch forwards while you get some shut eye," John suggested. Bruce refused to turn around and look at him because he knew John would have that look on his face that meant he was getting concerned for Bruce's physical and mental health.

"I'm fine," he said. And he was. He had endured worse than a little weariness. "This shouldn't take too long." He ignored John's pointed look at the screen that showed it had only moved up to three percent.

"...Right. Anything else I can do for you then?" John asked.

Bruce had to think for a minute- not because he was tired, mind you- he was just...allergic to thinking about things that didn't involve Superman at the moment. Wait, that was it!

"Actually, there is something I want you to look into. I want you to try and find out who Superman really is."

There was silence while John looked at him incredulously. "Isn't he just Superman? I mean...what else would he be?"

Bruce pushed himself away from the computer to look John in the eye. "That's what I initially thought too. After all, what would an all powerful being with a fortress in the arctic need with a secret identity? But I realized how close he and Lois Lane are. There's no way she could be so close to him unless he spent time with her outside of the suit.

"She obviously isn't taking trips to the north pole, and he obviously isn't showing up at the daily planet to have coffee with her as Superman. Therefore, he must have a secret identity that he uses when he spends time with her."

And if Lois Lane, a reporter, could find out Superman's secret identity, then John would be able to as well. Not because Lois had shoddy investigative skills, but because John made one hell of a detective. Mostly by being stubborn as fuck.

"Huh. Well, I'll be damned. I'll start looking into it right away," he said, walking away. Before he reached the lift however, he turned around to give Bruce one last reprimanding look. "I'm serious about you getting some sleep though. You look like you're halfway in your grave."

Bruce scoffed but otherwise didn't respond. There was no point when John was obviously _wrong_. He was perfectly fine.

* * *

John ended up being right because John was a dick and so was the rest of the universe.

Bruce had ended up nodding off while the decryption whirred away, and his dreams had been anything but pleasant. He had a nightmare of a world under Superman's regime, and it shook him to his very core.

_He stood with his hands chained above him, in the middle of a line of men in the same predicament. Superman approached through the haze, eyes glowing red like hot coals and the men surrounding him screamed in agony when those eyes tore their flesh apart._

_He struggled to breathe through the dust and the panic, and Superman's hand came racing towards his face._

_His cowl- his mask, his protection- was ripped off violently._

_Superman looked disdainfully at him, a sneer marring his otherwise handsome features._

_"She was my whole world," he said. As if it were an explanation for all the madness he had caused. If Bruce listened closely he could hear the phantom echoes of maniacal, green haired laughter bouncing through the air._

_Superman's hand crashed into his chest-_

He shook the nightmare from his head and continued to stagger to his room. God, if he thought he was tired before it was nothing compared to how he felt after that dream.

He'd been so disturbed he hadn't even bothered to check if his files were done being decrypted. Fuck.

The journey from the batcave to his bedroom had never felt so long. He collapsed onto his bed face first and lay there unmoving. If he could melt into the mattress he would have.

It was only years of training and paranoia that alerted him to the presence climbing onto his balcony.

He sprung off the bed and whirled around to defend himself, only to stop short at the sight of Talia staring at him. She had her hands raised to show her lack of weapons- unconcealed ones anyway- and reclined leisurely against the balcony's railing.

"You look awful, Beloved," she said plainly. A delicate eyebrow raised skywards.

He sighed and set down the knife he had pulled out from under his pillow.

"What are you doing here, Talia? I thought I made it clear that you and the League weren't welcome in Gotham."

She clicked her tongue at him and stepped forward to push him gently back onto the bed. "We were talking about business back then. I'm here now as a friend. This has nothing to do with the League," she said primly.

He snorted. "You're the head of the League- everything you do has to do with the League. Are you hiding Bane in my rosebushes?"

"I am not," she frowned sternly at him. "You allowed me to leave Gotham and take Bane with me so I could heal him on the condition that we never return. I would never bring him here when you two have such a venomous history. Neither of you can be trusted to behave."

"Well, you and I don't exactly share a past full of sunshine and daisies either, yet here _you_ are," he groused. He was really not in the mood for this. He was in the mood for some nice sleep that didn't involve nightmares about Superman taking over the world and murdering him, but apparently the universe was being a wad about that.

"You are acting like a child, Bruce." This was true, but it wasn't about to stop him. She'd already seen him at his worst and most pathetic, so frankly, he didn't care if he was being childish.

Besides, the last time they'd seen each other she had _stabbed_ him. That seemed like reasonable grounds to treat her with a lack of hospitality.

He told her as much, but she only rolled her eyes at him.

"Honestly, Beloved, it's in the past. My thirst for revenge has been quenched, and I no longer wish to see you die a miserable death. Which is why I'm here in the first place," she said.

"Selina tells me you are being stalked by the man of steel."

He groaned loudly at that. "For fuck's sake- how long have you been in contact with Silena?" he asked exasperatedly. Clearly he couldn't trust Silena with anything.

"Long enough," she replied unhelpfully.

He groaned again and flopped gracelessly onto his back. If the universe was so intent on royally fucking him over, it could have been nice enough to give him some lube beforehand.

"Bruce, you have to take better care of yourself," she scolded him. That was real rich coming from someone who had tried to kill him a mere year ago.

As if she could hear his thoughts, she gave him another stern look. He had to fight against the pout that was threatening to take over his face.

"I'm _fine_ ," he insisted.

She jabbed him in the chest and he hissed at the unexpected pain.

"You're bleeding through your bandages, Beloved. And you're getting sloppy if you're getting a wound like that. I thought your armor was enough to hold off something as delicate as a knife."

He glared balefully at her but she was unrepentant. "For your information, I was not wearing the suit at the time, and I was taken off guard when Superman came crashing in through the roof to rescue me." He immediately regretted telling her so when he saw the glint in her eyes.

"Yes, let's talk about him. The media is going wild over you two- half of them are convinced you and the man of steel are going to get married in the next month. The other half disagrees because they can't see you settling down with anyone. You and I both know better."

He sighed. "Nothing is going on with Superman and me." God forbid- Bruce would rather get eaten alive by rats.

"Really? You don't normally kiss your rescuers with such passion," she said, smirking playfully at him. "Besides, he seems quite taken with you. The only one who's been rescued as many times as you by him is Lois Lane."

He rolled over to bury his face in his pillows. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

"So, Clark...anything you want to tell me?" Ma asked. She had her back turned to him as she cut into a fresh baked apple pie, but he could practically feel the smile on her face. Oh boy.

He cleared his throat. "Um, no. What makes you say that?" he asked nervously. He shot a worried look at Lois over the table, but she just snickered and turned her attention to her coffee. He cautiously followed her lead.

She turned around with the pie and set it on the table with a smile. "Oh, no reason. I'm just wondering why you never told me you were interested in men," she said serenely.

Clark choked on his coffee and tried not to spit onto the table.

Lois and his mother shared an amused look at his expense.

"Wh-what?"

His mother sighed and patted him consolingly on the shoulder. "Clark, honey, you're not exactly the most subtle person around. I've watched you moon over boys and girls alike over the years. Plus, it was pretty obvious from that news footage that you were kissing that millionaire back."

"That was from a month ago!" he sputtered.

"Yes dear, and I've been waiting for a month for you to come out already, but you wouldn't do it. So I took matters into my own hands. Now, tell me about this billionaire that you keep rescuing," she said sweetly.

"It's not like I'm following him around on purpose-," a blatant lie. "He just gets kidnapped and held for ransom a lot! He's one of the wealthiest men on the planet- it happens! I'm just, you know, doing my civic duty by keeping him safe. And I don't spend that much time with him," he explained. The women across from him gave him the two most disbelieving looks he'd ever seen.

"Smallville, you clearly have the hots for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. I mean I can't completely blame you- the man's practically a sex symbol. But don't you think you should go for someone a little more... How do I put this nicely? Someone who can tie their own shoelaces?" Lois said, tapping at the table with her fingers.

Clark flushed at that from embarrassment and indignation. "That doesn't sound very nice, Lo," he protested weakly.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Oh come on, you know what I mean. You've met him repeatedly as Clark Kent and he still can't remember your name. He's notorious for being a brunette bimbo. You could do better," she said, shrugging.

While it was true that Mr. Wayne was well known for being a playboy and not being the brightest, Clark was fairly certain that there was more to him than that. From their brief- and numerous- encounters, he could tell that Bruce Wayne was a heavily layered figure. If this were a children's story about an ogre Clark would say that the billionaire was like an onion.

Only it wasn't a children's story, and layers aside, Bruce was nothing like an onion. He was more like a pastry. Finely layered, smelled nice, and looked entirely too inviting even when you knew you should resist temptation.

"I don't know, Lo... I think he's hiding something from the rest of the world. Not in a bad way- just like... I don't know. There's more to him than meets the eye."

He should have realized that saying something like that was going to be used against him.

"Really now? And why do you think that? Could it be because of all the time you've spent whisking him off his feet?" Ma asked, a triumphant smile on her face.

He had to stop himself from face palming. Oh, Rao... He knew nothing good was going to come of getting involved with Mr. Wayne.

Lois laughed outright at his crestfallen look and he blushed harder. He needed a new best friend.

Ma continued to look at him smugly. "Clark, we all know you obviously like Mr. Wayne. So you might as well go ahead and get it out of your system by telling us in excruciating detail why that is. I haven't had anything good to gossip about lately. And before you ask, no, I'm not going to share what you say with anyone else besides Lois. Just let your poor mother dream a little about what life would be like if her son started dating a handsome millionaire," she said, patting him rather patronizingly on the arm.

"Billionaire," Lois corrected her.

"Goodness, billionaire? Clark, I really need those details now dear."

How did his life turn out this way?

* * *

After Talia had forcibly shoved some ZzzQuil down his throat and left him to sleep until Alfred woke him up in the morning, Bruce had a pleasant night. Mostly because the ZzzQuil had effectively knocked him out for about eight hours. That was about twice as much sleep as he usually got these days.

Alfred had woken him later than usual, and it was only after extensive prodding that he revealed his reason for doing so. Apparently Talia had left a note for Alfred saying that Bruce needed more sleep and shouldn't be woken at his usual time. Also, if he attempted to wake him at the usual hour and it didn't work it would probably be due to the near lethal amounts of ZzzQuil she'd forced into him.

His butler had wisely chosen to do as she ordered. He had also made sure to clear his schedule for the day, thus preventing Bruce from going out into the world and doing something stupid instead of resting more.

He was also forced to eat a full breakfast that morning. Not that he didn't like breakfast- it was actually quite nice. It was certainly better than the protein shakes he'd been sucking down to save time. He had missed Alfred's cooking.

Still, he couldn't sit around the mansion all day doing nothing. It simply wasn't in his nature.

By eleven-thirty he was sweeping down to the Bat cave to take a look at his decrypted files. He assumed they were decrypted anyway. God, if they weren't he was going to lose his damn mind.

Fortunately, the decryption was in fact complete.

The first thing he did was search for the White Portuguese. Lo and behold, Luthor did have the answer he had spent months looking for.

A boat. The White Portuguese was a fucking boat. Who the fuck named their fucking boat the White Portuguese? Luthor did apparently. What a fucking fucker.

"Master Bruce, I was rather hoping you wouldn't be down here," Alfred said, appearing behind him.

"It's a boat, Alfred. I finally know what the White Portuguese is. And it's making port tonight."

"I fail to see why that takes priority over your health," he said completely unimpressed.

Bruce sighed in exasperation. "It's carrying a rock, Alfred! Some kind of element from space that could be the key to defeating Superman! That's far more important than my health," he insisted. Alfred continued to look unimpressed.

"What?" he asked the older man defensively.

Alfred didn't sigh because he was far too dignified for that. He did get a rather put upon look on his face though. "I was hoping you'd gotten over your obsession with taking Superman down after all the times he's rescued you. Honestly, Master Bruce- why don't you have a little more faith in people?"

"Well, the last time I put my faith in someone, she ended up literally stabbing me in the back and trying to blow up the whole city."

" _Master Bruce_."

"Look, I'll take a break from my night job after I get rid of Superman. Will that make you happy?"

Alfred sniffed. "No, but I don't think I'll be able to convince you to do any better."

"Good enough," Bruce replied.

Now, he had some plans to make.

* * *

On the flight back to Metropolis Lois and Clark talked about the happenings of Gotham. And about the Batman.

"Lo, he's _branding_ people."

"I know that! But I'm just saying, the issue isn't as black and white as you make it out to be. I mean, the Gothamites consider him to be a hero! He did save them from that Bane man last year. And crime rates have lowered in the years since his appearance- not including the year that Bane took over," she argued.

"He's acting like he's the law of the land though. It's the judicial system that's supposed to be sentencing people for their crimes. And did you know those brands are basically marking those criminals for death? Every single one- _every single one_ \- of the men branded with those gets killed in prison," he said, enunciating his words with his hands.

She tucked a flyaway curl behind her ear and flipped a page in her magazine. "I'm not saying that what he's doing with those men is right. But you have to understand, Clark. Gotham is not like Metropolis. It's one of the most corrupt cities in the entire country. Half its police force has their hands shoved deep in the mob's pockets. The system can't always be trusted to do what's right."

"Well, it doesn't excuse what he's doing to those men," he retorted. "And I'm going to do something about it. Tonight, if he shows up on the streets."

She dropped her magazine into her lap to stare him down. "Clark, you better not be thinking of doing something stupid," she warned.

"It's not stupid- I'm just going to warn him to stay off the streets. That's all. I promise I won't try to fight him," he pledged at her stony look.

"You better not. I don't want Perry to assign me an article on what a war would look like between Superman and Batman."

* * *

Everything was going according to plan that night until Superman, true to fashion, ruined everything again.

Bruce had carefully tracked the White Portuguese and its shipment, and he had been so close to reaching his prize when he came speeding around the corner to find Superman.

The stupid Kryptonian didn't even bat an eye when Bruce crashed into him.

The Batmobile bounced right off his invincible skin and went careening into a building. Fucking extraterrestrials. He didn't even have time to collect his thoughts and try and eject before Superman was ripping the roof of his car straight off. Fucker.

Carefully, he straightened himself out until he was standing face to face with the alien. It irked him that despite the fact he was standing on the wreckage of his vehicle, he was only at eye level with Superman. Stupid fucker didn't even have the decency to be a reasonable height for him to loom over. To be fair, Bruce had already known that Superman was taller than him, but this was just ridiculous.

Unlike usual though, Superman did not look the least bit concerned about Bruce's wellbeing. Not even that little wrinkle between his brows that he got when he was worried Bruce was drugged.

If anything he looked angry.

It was deeply unsettling, and he had to fight to keep his fear from his face. He'd had plenty of nightmares of the horrors Superman could do to him, and although he'd always prepared for the worst... Well, let's just say getting killed by the man of steel wasn't something he was actually interested in experiencing.

Superman looked him sternly in the eye. "Next time they shine your light in the sky... Don't go to it. The Bat is dead. Bury it. Consider this a mercy," he said gravely.

He turned to leave, striding away in purposeful steps.

And, well, Bruce wasn't about to let him have the last word. If he did that he might spontaneously combust. If John were there he'd be shaking his head furiously in Bruce's direction to convince him to keep his mouth shut.

"Do you bleed?" he asked. He made sure to use his official Batman voice, letting the words ground out low and gravely.

There was only a slight pause in Superman's gait, but he said nothing in return. Instead he took off into the smoggy skies of Gotham.

"You will," Bruce promised to the empty air.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for Bruce not so secretly being petty af. Like he'll forgive you, but he'll never let you forget about it.  
> Also this dumbass don't know how to take care of himself. Everyone else got their hands full trying to do it for him. 
> 
> Also I FINALLY HAVE MY LAPTOP BACK HURRAH! But also... iT's sO hARd tO UpDAtE tEn OngOiNG fICs iN a tImELy mAnNeR wHAt wAs I tHInKinG?!


	8. Tell Me Your Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha remember when I said I update things slowly???? That still applies

_"Tell me your secrets, he says gently_

_Looking into her eyes, a woman who has lived with secrets all her life_

_She smiles, and says, there are many secrets behind this mask you see_

_And there are many masks, some you haven’t yet seen "_

_-"Tell Me Your Secrets" by Anita Atina_

* * *

The first time Clark Kent met the Batman it was... weird.

Clark had been sent to Gotham to cover an article about the football team- and grab a box of donuts from the bakery that Kat loved so much- when he become the unfortunate target of a mugger.

He really hated when people did this kind of thing to him. It was horribly inconvenient. Sure, it wasn't like they could hurt him or anything, so at least he didn't have to worry about that. Unfortunately that created a whole new sort of issue. He couldn't exactly pretend to be a normal average human when bullets and knives deflected off his skin. So he had to do his best to... avoid giving away his secret identity.

He put his hands in the air in surrender- as well as he could with the donuts in hand- and tried to look as harmless as possible. Maybe if he looked helpless enough they would just leave him alone.

"Hand over your wallet!" the mugger growled, taking a menacing step closer. He waved the gun in his hand to bring the reporter's attention to it.

Clark's mind was whirring away trying to figure out what to do if the man tried to shoot him. Would it be suspicious if he dodged the bullet? He was holding a box of donuts, and while Superman was coordinated enough to dodge gunfire and keep from dropping the treats, Clark Kent doing so would be a little weirder. And he really didn't want to drop them. They were pricey, and he couldn't afford to buy a whole new box.

Plus, Kat would kill him if he came back empty handed.

The logical solution was to give the man his wallet and hope he left after that, but Clark didn't want to do that either. He did not make enough as a reporter to afford the costs of losing all the assets in his wallet.

Just as he was contemplating his next move, a dark figure descended into the alleyway. Batman disarmed the mugger with ease and sent him scurrying off in panic.

Clark was so surprised he almost dropped Kat's donuts.

"Are you alright?" the masked crusader rumbled, turning to face Clark and inspect him for injuries.

"Uh..." was Clark's intelligent reply.

He honestly didn't know how to react to this situation. If he were in his Superman regalia he would be telling Batman to bugger off, and that his services weren't needed, but since he was in his civilian persona... Well, he couldn't really do that.

Also, it would be terribly rude for him to tell him off right after Batman had presumably saved his life.

Speaking of rudeness, he hadn't even thanked the man. "Yes! Yes, I'm fine," he stuttered, reaching up with his free hand to readjust his glasses. "I'm just a little surprised, that's all. Um, thank you."

He peered down at the vigilante- it was so odd to him that he was taller than the Batman when the other had such a domineering presence. He'd already known he was taller than him when they met as Batman and Superman, but it was disconcerting to find that it still held true when he kept himself hunched in on himself as Clark Kent.

"You should be more careful. Gotham isn't the same as Metropolis," was all Batman replied. He turned away to leave, but Clark suddenly found his voice again. He couldn't let him go like that.

"You're right. For one, we don't go around branding people before sending them off to jail," he retorted. He and his stupid reporter self just couldn't keep his big mouth shut.

Batman looked over his shoulder disapprovingly. If it weren't for the lenses blocking his eyes, Clark would have sworn the man was glaring at him. "I don't brand people either."

And that really got his goat. "Are you trying to tell me that someone else is going around and branding people with your symbol right after you apprehend them?" he scoffed. This was unbelievable. Who in the world would even bother with such a task?

"I told you that Gotham is not the same as Metropolis. It wouldn't be the first time someone has attempted to frame me for crimes I did not commit," Batman growled.

"Who would even have the resources and ability to do such a thing before the police showed up?" Clark asked. He was an investigative journalist, and by Rao, he was going to use it to his advantage.

Batman pulled a grappling gun off his belt and gave him one last unimpressed look. "Who says they do it before the police show up?" he said before whisking away into the smoggy skies of Gotham and leaving Clark to reconsider his view on the caped crusader.

Clark didn't question how Batman knew he was from Metropolis until he was already heading out of the city.

* * *

Kat was delighted when he returned to work that afternoon with her sugary treats. She acted so flattered that he had bought them for her, despite the fact that everyone had heard her threaten to disembowel him that morning when he left if he didn't bring them back for her.

He didn't hold it against her though. It was just how she was. He figured she could use a little pick me up anyways after the recent breakup she had undergone with her boyfriend of the past year.

"So Smallville, anything exciting happen while you were across the river?" Lois asked, perching atop his desk and shoving a cup of coffee in his hands.

He thanked her and took a sip before replying, taking a quick look around to make sure no one was listening in on them. "Actually, someone tried to rob me," he said. He hurried to continue when he saw the worried look on her face. "It's okay, nothing happened. He didn't really get the chance to try anything, so I'm okay. I'm not in danger of, you know, being outed or anything."

The worry changed into curiosity at that. "Oh? And why is that?" She leaned closer to inspect him carefully.

"Um... I kind of... got rescued by the Batman?" he said timidly.

Her eyes grew wide before she abruptly burst into raucous laughter, nearly falling off his desk in the process.

More than a few heads turned in their direction at that, but he waved them off with an awkward smile. He gave them a look that he hoped conveyed that whatever he said wasn't that funny. He and Lois shared a lot of "inside jokes" that no one else understood.

One by one the rest of the office went back to their own work and conversations, and Clark could finally address the problem at hand.

"Come on, Lo. It's not that funny," he said.

She continued to snicker at him. "I'm sorry, Smallville, but didn't you just trash his car the other night and tell him to stop what he was doing?"

"Well, yeah," he mumbled, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

"And now he ends up saving you after all that? You have to admit, that's true irony right there."

He absolutely did not pout at that. "It's not like he knew who I was. He wouldn't have bothered if he thought I was Superman. He'd probably hold my arms back while the mugger beat me up if he did. You know what he asked when I met him as Superman? He asked me if I bled! And then when I was flying away, I swear I heard him say that I would. He's a psychopath," he fumed.

Lois just snorted. She didn't even try to hide her amusement. "No offense, but if someone totaled my car and tried to tell me what to do, I would also threaten to make them bleed too. I mean come on, Clark. Kat threatened to do the same thing over a box of donuts. Can you really blame the guy?"

He hated her for being so logical.

"I suppose not..." he grumbled, slouching further into his chair. Life seemed intent on making him reexamine his opinion on the Batman today.

Batman had saved him, the vigilante had a valid reason to dislike him for what he'd done, and now he wasn't even sure that the guy was getting people killed in prison by branding them with his mark. It was making his head spin.

When he first heard Batman's question about the cops' arrival, he hadn't quite been sure what he meant. If someone wasn't branding people before they got there, that had to mean that they were doing it after the cops arrived. But how wouldn't the cops notice that?

The only explanation was that the cops were in on it too. Lois did tell him that the Gotham police department was full of dirty cops.

Clark wanted to put his head in his hands and groan.

Too bad he didn't have time to do that though. He had an article to write. Speaking of which, he should really get started on that.

He shooed Lois back to her own desk and got to work. He could worry about Batman later.

* * *

"KENT!" Perry White's voice bellowed over the office, startling Clark so bad that he almost knocked over his coffee.

Heads swiveled in his direction and gave him unsympathetic smirks. Lois gave him a mock salute as he scrambled to his feet and rushed to Perry's office.

"Yes, sir?" he asked timidly. He honestly wasn't sure what his boss was yelling at him about this time. He'd written all his articles on time this week and did everything Perry asked- what could he possibly have done wrong this time?

The older man shuffled a few errant papers on his desk and took a large swig of coffee before replying. "You're going to Gotham tonight. There's some big charity gala happening tonight, and Grant is sick. Make sure to wear something presentable- ask Lane for advice."

"What? But I was just there last week. Wouldn't it be better to just send Lois instead?" Clark asked, doing his best to not sound petulant.

He didn't really want to go back to Gotham. Every time he went there his life got even more complicated.

Perry didn't seem to understand that, leveling him with a glare that could melt glaciers. "Lane is working on something that's actually important, so no, she can't go instead. Besides, you've been there enough times now that you shouldn't be whining about it. In fact, even if you hadn't been there before you still shouldn't be whining about it because it's your _job_. Now get out of my office," he snapped.

Clark shuffled out dejectedly and mourned the loss of his evening.

Lois popped over to his desk once he had sunk into his seat and gave him a searching look. "What's got you so down in the dumps? I didn't hear any yelling in there, so it couldn't be that bad."

He moved his glasses to the top of his head and ran a hand over his face. "Kat's sick, so I have to go cover some fancy charity gala in Gotham tonight," he groaned.

"Another one? I swear they have one of those every other week," she said, patting his shoulder in sympathy.

"I guess they have to pay a lot for all the damages their city goes through," he mumbled, poking forlornly at his half written article about the high school's new wing.

"Well, it won't be so bad. There are worse things than going to a fancy party and snacking on expensive hor d’oeuvres and champagne while taking notes about which rich socialite is dating who," she tried to comfort him.

He cushioned his head on his arms and flopped over his desk.

She rolled her eyes at him and poked him in the side. "Aww, come on. Don't be like that, Smallville. Chin up and look on the bright side- your billionaire crush will probably be there. Maybe you can finally get laid," she teased.

His face lit up like a Rudolph Christmas decoration’s nose and he buried his face further in his arms.

"I do not have a crush on him," he said.

She just laughed and left him to brood over his fate.

* * *

Clark desperately wished he could get drunk. Too bad for him his Kryptonian biology didn't allow that- at least not with Earthly alcohols. He wondered if there were alcoholic beverages on Krypton that could have done the job back before it was destroyed.

He'd been at the gala for an hour asking questions and taking notes, and he was going bored out of his mind. This really just wasn't his kind of scene. Everything was so opulent and expensive that he was afraid he'd ruin something just by breathing on it.

And to top it all off, he hadn't even seen Bruce Wayne.

Yes, he was supposed to be a professional instead of some lovesick teenage boy, but he was so bored. He'd been hoping for one small thing to light up the situation. That one thing was supposed to be seeing the handsome billionaire, but apparently it wasn't meant to be.

He'd heard a few people mention Bruce's name, but somehow he kept missing him.

It was probably for the best anyway. He really shouldn't be drooling over someone like Mr. Wayne- after all, there was no way in hell that they'd ever work out. The man would never look twice at someone like Clark. At most, he'd use him for a one night stand.

He was just about to give up when he caught sight of the very man he'd been musing over.

Bruce was wearing a fitted navy suit and smiling airily at something someone else said. He laughed politely at a joke and started making his way to a waiter with flutes of champagne balancing on their tray.

Just as he reached them a woman with wavy chestnut hair intercepted him and pulled him away in the direction of the gardens. Clark saw him frown and swipe two glasses off the waiter's tray before he was whisked away.

Clark was feeling rather curious and self-serving at the moment so he followed them. He was bored alright? Besides, he had already gathered enough information for his piece. 

It was easy to make it out of the ballroom when nobody cared who he was. He was just some journalist from Metropolis, not some big name company owner. Still, he made sure to keep quiet when he slipped out into the open air.

Bruce and the woman had already traveled far enough down the winding path that nobody without x-ray vision and super hearing could see or hear them. Fortunately for Clark, he had x-ray vision and super vision, so he could tell exactly what was going on. He scurried away from the doors and found a place where nobody would catch him eavesdropping.

Bruce was sprawled over a bench, drinking from one of the flutes in his hands. Unlike Clark had expected, he didn't offer the other one to the lady with him. Instead he clutched it close to his chest and  scowled at her.

"Are you really going to be inebriated tonight?" she asked pointedly. She had a rich accent that was sultry and alluring even when she was being condescending. Her arms were crossed and she was looking down at Bruce like he was being an idiot.

The billionaire met her eye and stared her down as he chugged the rest of his first glass. "Why not? Apparently I've got you here as my babysitter," he sneered, sounding uncharacteristically bitter.

" _Beloved_ ," she said, and Clark recoiled at the word as it rolled off her tongue like it had physically slapped him in his hiding spot. "Must you be so childish?"

Bruce guffawed loudly and took another gulp of champagne. "I'll be as childish as I want. At least I'm honest with you. Which is more than you can say, you backstabber. And I mean that literally," he seethed. The way he was acting was a complete 180 from the way he'd been in the ballroom, and it was almost giving Clark whiplash.

Also, what was that about literally backstabbing?

He knew Bruce had a lot of scars. He'd scanned him for injuries plenty of times before when he'd come to Gotham to rescue him. There were so many of them, but Kat always insisted it was because Bruce liked to play rough sports like polo and cliff jumping and things like that. Now that he thought about it though, there was a scar that looked suspiciously like a knife wound in Bruce's abdomen....

"You've had worse," she shrugged. It was very ungentlemanly of him, but he rather wanted to fly over there and shake some sense into her for acting so nonchalant about injuring Bruce. He didn't do it obviously, but he still wished he could.

His attention snapped back to Bruce who was finishing off the remainder of his champagne. "That doesn't mean I have to pretend like what you did was okay. What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be off, I don't know, training the League?" he said, gesturing vaguely at the air.

"I'm here to make sure you take care of yourself, Beloved. Clearly, you can't be trusted to do it on your own."

"Is this the part where you say if I don't take care of myself, you'll make me?" he said. He was glaring balefully up at her, unrepentant in the face of opposition.

There was a flash of silver and Clark blinked when he realized she was holding a knife to Bruce's throat. He rose abruptly from his hidden spot and started racing down the trail that led to the pair.

"What if I said it was?" she asked, eyes glinting in the light of the paper lanterns that hung throughout the trees. The knife didn't budge from its position at Bruce's jugular.

Clark was just about ready to forgo with his civilian disguise and burst through the shrubbery as Superman, but the expression on the billionaire's face made him stop in his tracks.

Bruce wasn't panicked or teary at the threat of death. His heartbeat didn't waver for a single beat. His face looked as though it was carved from marble, so unmovable it appeared, and his eyes were like shards of ice. He didn't look like he was in danger. Quite the opposite- he looked _dangerous_.

"If you wanted to keep me tied up like a dog, then you should have asked Bane to break my spine again," Bruce said. His voice was quiet, but it seemed to fill the entire garden with tension.

Clark felt his knees go weak at the words.

He never thought about what Bruce must have gone through when Bane took over Gotham. He knew Bruce had gone missing for a large period of time during the reckoning, but so had a lot of other people. He just assumed the man had been keeping his head down and hiding as best as he could. He'd never considered the possibility that he'd suffered personally at the hands of Bane.

Had the terrorist taken Bruce captive for his wealth? Did he break his spine for disobeying him? There was so much about the man that he didn't know.

The woman removed her knife and replaced it with a gentle hand on his cheek. "Trying to destroy you in revenge for my father was a mistake. I know that now. You have reminded me the importance of making my own choices. And what those choices cost. You are precious to me," she said.

Bruce's face was as stony as ever, but his eyes were no longer glaring daggers at her.

"I just want you to be happy, Beloved. You deserve to a break from all the darkness that surrounds you. It's time for you to spend some time in the sun."

He laughed derisively at that. "Oh, Talia. You know as well as I do that there is no place in sunlight left for me. My path lies down midnight trails, with only the lowest of the low to keep me company."

Clark's heart broke at that. How was it that Bruce thought so lowly of himself. And how was it that no one had caught on?

He knew the answer to that. It was because Bruce was such a magnificent actor. He'd gotten hints before that the Gothamite was hiding something beneath his cool, airheaded playboy exterior. He had no idea just what lay beneath the surface.

Now he knew, and he almost wished he didn't.

"Bruce," Talia began, but the man waved her off.

"Enough. Let's just get back to the party," Bruce grumbled, getting to his feet.

Clark was so lost in his thoughts he almost forgot to hide when the couple approached his spot down the trail. He threw himself behind a rosebush just moments before they appeared.

He held his breath- easy for someone who didn't actually need to breathe- and made sure his body floated just the slightest bit above the ground instead of hitting it and making noise. Still, they must have heard the rustle of the leaves when he dived because they both took a second to stare suspiciously at the rosebush.

There was something about their gaze that made his skin crawl. It was a very strange feeling for him to have regarding the billionaire.

He was coming up with excuses for why they found him hiding behind the shrubbery when something else drew their attention.

There was only the quietest double tap against a nearby tree to signal someone else's arrival. Clark used his abilities to find the new arrival, and blinked in confusion.

It was a man clad entirely in black, slim but with the presence of someone you didn't want to mess with. He stepped onto the path and nodded at the couple. There was something familiar about him that sent alarm bells ringing in Clark's mind.

"Barsad," Talia addressed the man, ignoring the venomous look on Bruce's face. "I thought I ordered everyone to stay at the base."

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt, but something has come up that requires your attention," Barsad said. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on her, not daring to look at Bruce.

Not that it kept Bruce from speaking up. "For fuck's sake- I put up with you being here Talia, but now you let this bastard into my city? And you- do you expect me to believe they couldn't send anyone else instead? Seriously, you were Bane's right hand man. You think I'd just forget something like that?" he snarled.

That explained why the man looked familiar.

What was he doing back in Gotham though? And what did this woman Talia have to do with him? He got more and more questions as the night wore on.

"Beloved, we'll discuss this later. It appears I'm needed back home," Talia replied. She turned to peck him on the cheek. "Do try and take care of yourself while I'm away. I'll know if you don't," she warned.

He sighed in resignation, letting her go without a word. She and Barsad disappeared into the dark.

Clark watched as Bruce stood there silently, breathing in the cool night air. He stayed for a few more moments before straightening out his suit and plastering a charming smile on his face as he headed back inside.

Clark finally let himself drop to the grass and prayed to Rao that it wouldn't stain his suit. At that point he wasn't sure he cared though.

What in the world had he just witnessed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I hadn't had Clark Kent meet Batman yet so I had to fix that. Also sorry it took so long, I went through a spell of not wanting to write and then classes started up again, so.... ugh lol. Know how many credits I'm taking this semester? NINETEEN. I was going to to 13 like a sane person who has to take 2 intermediate 4 hour studios, but then my dad pissed me off so much I signed up for 2 more classes out of spite. Big mistake. I very much regret it, but I refuse to drop any classes. Because I'm a stubborn asshole. Anyway, updates are probably going to get even more dicey this semester, so sorry in advance.
> 
> Update: I just got my first straight up hate message and it was on this fic how surreal. Like sorry bro beans, but I'm not gonna delete my whole fic lmao kindly delete your bad attitude instead ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	9. This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> who's ready for a short choppy chapter?????

_Who can say what the world is? The world_

_is in flux, therefore_

_unreadable, the winds shifting,_

_the great plates invisibly shifting and changing-_

_-"Prism" by Louise Gluck_

* * *

 

"Clark, are you sure about this?" Lois asked for the sixth time that hour. She paced back and forth on the same six foot stretch of the hallway like her life depended on it.

He resisted the urge to reach out and stop her. "I'm sure," he said instead. "I have to do this, Lo. I have to face the consequences of my actions."

"You were trying to save the planet! You don't deserve to be torn apart by people just because they have no one else to blame!"

"I deserve to be tried for my actions, just as anyone else would," he reminded her gently.

She whirled around to face him. "Clark-"

"Lo, _please_. I need to do this. Not just for the people who have been wronged, but for me as well. I-," he paused, unsure how to continue. "I just need to do this, okay?"

Her fury ebbed away to sad understanding, and she nodded. He smiled weakly at her in return and accepted the tight hug she gave him.

"I'm going with you," she told him, voice muffled by his chest.

"You can't, Lo. I don't want you to get mixed up in all this more than you already are. Besides, it's a hearing for me, not for you."

"Then I'll come like all the other reporters and wait outside," she said in her no nonsense voice. He stifled a laugh at that but didn't argue with her. After all, what was the harm in that?

* * *

"Is that Wallace Keefe?" Bruce asked his assistant while staring intently at his television.

The young man affirmed that it was, although he wasn't sure how Keefe had ended up in the Capitol with a shiny new wheelchair and suit. Apparently, the disabled man hadn't accepted any of the compensation money Bruce had been sending.

"He hasn't? Why haven't I heard about this before?" Bruce asked, mildly irked. He didn't like the idea of his employees keeping things from him, especially when he was trying to help people.

"Well, that's because, um... Security didn't want to concern you, Mr. Wayne," his assistant answered timidly.

 _That_ made him turn his head. "Security?"

The younger man rifled through his briefcase before taking out a file full of envelopes returned from Keefe. They were covered in violent red letters that spat at him for his inadequacies during the Black Zero Event.

Bruce felt his blood go cold.

* * *

Clark touched down in front of the Capitol building and took a look at the madness surrounding him. The entire block was filled with protestors- some for and some against Superman. Although if he had to hazard a guess, he'd say there were more people against him there.

His eyes locked briefly in Lois, who had pushed her way to the front of the crowd.

He turned away and marched into the building, taking a deep breath.

He was ready to face his fate.

* * *

Bruce began to tell his assistant that from now on he wanted to be aware of any threats on his well being- and if not him than at least tell his bodyguard about it- when the television erupted into chaos.

He whipped around to see the burning remains of the Capitol and people screaming as they fled.

* * *

He should have known.

He should have noticed something- _anything_ \- sooner.

He'd been so caught up in his own head that he hadn't realized the dangers around him.

Not a danger to him- the danger to the people. To the humans.

But he didn't.

He was blinded by his own selfishness.

And now everyone was dead.

Senator June Finch- he should have realized something was wrong sooner. He only realized it after he saw the look on her face when her eyes snapped to Lex Luthor's empty seat. She was dead now.

Luthor's assistant was dead now too. Mercy, wasn't it? What an ironic name. He'd come here looking for mercy- hadn't he? - Only to find himself in ruins.

And then there was Keefe. A man who was so personally wronged by Clark's actions. He remembered so vividly the news reels of the amputee vandalizing the statue of Superman in the park. The bright red letters spelling "FALSE GOD" echoed through his dreams for weeks. When Clark first saw him in the court room he wanted to cry. He wanted to trade his own invincibility for the man to have legs again. He wanted to get on his knees and beg forgiveness for what he'd done.

There was no way Keefe would ever forgive him though.

Maybe that was why Clark really came.

He didn't come for mercy. He came for punishment.

And now it would come tenfold.

* * *

 

Superman emerged from the wreckage unscathed, and Bruce saw red. He nearly threw a chair at the TV in a fit of rage, but he held himself back. It wouldn't solve anything to lose his temper- especially at work. He needed to keep up his air-headed, politically uninvolved persona.

It was so hard though.

Mentally he filed away what he saw as evidence to use against the alien.

To think he'd almost been convinced that Superman wasn't so bad.... Well, this was a wakeup call.

Superman had to be defeated.

And Batman was going to do it.

Nobody was going to suffer because of the Man of Steel ever again.

He was going to get Luthor's kryptonite tonight.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uh was going to make this chapter longer, but then I'd have to add another scene and that felt weird, so I kept it short. Also I totally fucking forgot that the actual plot of BvS existed lmao so here's the return of that.


	10. You Must First Become Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yooooooooooooooo sorry it took so long, but I'm finally back!!!
> 
> Featured in this chapter: Bruce has more bad dreams and deals with it like a pro disaster, and Clark continues to not catch a break

_“But the worst enemy you can meet will always be yourself; you lie in wait for yourself in caverns and forests._

_Lonely one, you are going the way to yourself! And your way goes past yourself, and past your seven devils!_

_You will be a heretic to yourself and witch and soothsayer and fool and doubter and unholy one and villain._

_You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame: how could you become new, if you had not first become ashes?”_

_-“Thus Spoke Zarathustra” by Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

Bruce toiled away in his lair day after day, and night after night, scarcely taking breaks to eat or rest. He let Lucius know that he wasn't available to come in to Wayne Enterprises until further notice, and he canceled any meetings he had. It's not like any of them were important anyways.

Alfred was barely tolerating his behavior, but he continued to allow Bruce to work in the hopes that he would get his obsession with the Man of Steel out of his system. His disapproval was nonetheless palpable at all times.

Bruce couldn't stop though. He couldn't rest until his plan was ready to come to fruition.

There was only so much time in the world.

No, that wasn't right.

There was only so much time in his life.

The longer it took him to finish his work, the harder it would become to defeat Superman.

Before the explosion he thought he had time to take care of the issue, thought he didn't have to hurry, thought he might even have years to devise a proper plan.

He didn't have years anymore.

Perhaps he never did though. He was thirty five, in the prime of his life- it was deceivingly easy to forget that what he had was only temporary. His mortality was an ever present entity hovering over him ever since he faced down Bane. He expected to die in the suit someday, but which day he'd never really considered.

Would it be tomorrow? Would it be a year from now? Or would it be in twenty years?

Would he still be fighting when he was graying at the edges and his body started to fail him, making him slow, making him weaker than his younger, stronger opponents?

He kept having this dream where he and Superman faced off- Bruce was too old. He wasn't quick or strong enough to level out the playing field. His breathing was ragged, came too fast too soon, and his body tired too easily. Superman was unchanged. He looked the same as the first day he appeared, youthful and powerful as ever.

It was terrifying to see his own desperate struggle to keep up.

But even more frightening was the look in Superman's eyes. He knew who Batman was, knew who was hiding under the mask. And it saddened him.

"Bruce," he would plead, "your heart..." He could hear the stuttering in Batman's chest, could hear the heart attack approaching rapidly.

His eyes were pools of heartbreak, even as Bruce pounded his face in. The sickly green glow kept him from defending himself.

Bruce's hands would wrap around his neck, but not soon enough, not long enough. His heart gave out before he could try to finish what he'd started.

And like a ghost he would watch Superman hold him close against his chest, see him snarl at the military dogs that had come to watch the showdown. Cowards that had come to watch a god strike down a demon from the underworld.

Distantly he could hear Superman's voice echo from a memory long past.

_We must not remind them that giants walk the earth._

The dream hung over him like a shroud.

In the dream he felt like one of the giants, but in the waking world he had the disturbing feeling that he was one of the cowards instead.

He was no giant. He was just a man, trying to save his city from itself.

Every time he woke up he questioned whether what he was doing was the right thing or not. Then he would remember the explosion. Then he remembered Metropolis in ruins, and a little girl covered in dust with tears clearing paths down her cheeks.

His resolve would return, and he would continue his work.

Superman would be defeated if it was the last thing he ever did.

* * *

Lois and his Ma were trying so hard to cheer him up, but Clark just didn't have the energy in him to pretend anymore. He was so tired, so beaten down.

Ma pushed another piece of pie in front of him, and he ate it mechanically, not even tasting the sweetness of the treat. Everything tasted like ash in his mouth nowadays.

Even his writing was suffering from his behavior.

Perry had called him in to his office earlier that week to tell him off about it, and Clark couldn't even come up with an excuse for his lackluster work. Unbeknownst to him that was what really tipped his boss off that something was wrong. Normally Clark Kent was full of passion and had an excuse for every little thing that displeased Perry.

Clark Kent right now.... He was a husk of what he used to be, and Perry didn't understand why.

The weird behavior had started up right after the attack on the Capitol, but the older man hadn't thought much of it at the time. Everyone had been rather out of sorts after the explosion- the only difference was that most of them had put their brave faces on and moved on with their lives.

Perry gave him fluff pieces for assignments to serve as both a punishment and also an easy job he couldn't fuck up too badly.

He was secretly hoping that something would perk Clark up back to his usual self. Maybe a litter of puppies would do the trick. He'd look into it.

All he knew for sure was that the man needed a serious pick me up.

* * *

It took billionaire Bruce Wayne getting kidnapped by the Joker for Clark to snap back to his senses.

He was uneasy being Superman ever since the attack at the Capitol, but he did his best to continue fighting for humanity. If there was any comfort in the last few tumultuous weeks it was the constant steady beating of a certain Gothamite.

He always kept an ear out for that heartbeat- not that he'd ever tell Lois or Ma that. They'd definitely take it the wrong way. It wasn't like he did it to be, you know, _creepy_ or anything. He was just....concerned about the man's well being. He got into a lot of sticky situations.

That night was proof of that.

He'd been puttering around his little apartment, relaxing into the soothing sound of Bruce's heart when it skipped a beat. He wouldn't have thought much of it- these things were bound to happen once in a while- but he noticed that it also picked up the pace after that. It was the slightest of differences, but he'd listened to that heartbeat often enough to know when it was off.

He focused in on the surroundings of the billionaire to figure out what had changed.

The screaming was the first thing he heard, then the gunshots and the frantic crying. Before he realized it he was already halfway to Gotham.

It was surprising that Bruce's heart rate was so low and steady given the circumstances. He wondered if the man was drugged again or maybe inebriated. Maybe that's why he didn't sound panicked.

Then again, there was that incident where Bruce had been completely unaffected about having a knife pressed against his throat, so maybe he just couldn't be fazed by a paltry thing like life or death situations.

Rao, the man made his head spin.

He didn't have time to worry about that though. He had a job to do.

He burst through the ceiling of the building Bruce was located, taking down a few of the Joker's goons with him. Bullets started raining on him, but they all bounced harmlessly off his skin. Honestly, he didn't know why they bothered with that anymore.

He knocked out all the clowns and took a quick glance of the room, but Bruce wasn't in there. Neither was the Joker. He scanned the building until his eyes landed on a familiar set of blue eyes and windswept hair. As well as an equally recognizable face painted white with a gash of red across his lips.

The maniac was holding a knife up to the edge of Bruce's mouth, spouting some story that Clark didn't bother listening to. He rammed through the walls in his way, furious at the thought of someone scarring the billionaire’s unmarred face.

The Joker didn't even flinch when Superman crashed into the room. At most he seemed mildly annoyed at the interruption.

"I don't think you were invited to this shindig," the clown crowed, tilting his head slightly and raising his eyebrows.

"Something tells me you weren't either," he retorted.

The Joker smiled at him, and Clark could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up. "Now, now, Supes, don't be like that. Every party needs entertainment," he chuckled. The knife in his hand moved out of Bruce's mouth to trail along his cheek, a light stream of blood following in its wake.

Clark's hands curled into fists at the sight. The Joker's smile grew wider.

"Oh, do I detect a little red in those eyes? Gonna burn me to a colorful crisp?" he crooned. He laughed at the deepening frown on Clark's face. "Hit a sore spot there, Mr. Sunshine? Or are you just upset that I've got my hands on your latest squeeze?" He punctuated his words by pulling Bruce flush against him and leering at him suggestively.

If he was still a teenager struggling to get control of his emotions Clark would have punched him through the wall. However, he was not a teenager struggling to get control of his emotions, so he didn't do that. Besides, the Joker's grip on Bruce was so tight that if he tried Bruce would probably end up going through the wall with him, and that was definitely not what Clark wanted. He was trying to save Bruce for goodness' sake.

But by Rao, did Bruce really have to get kidnapped so often?

"What do you want, Joker?" Clark asked, forcing himself to remain calm, unclenching his fists.

Gotham's most wanted criminal tapped his knife thoughtfully against his painted lips. "Well, I didn't really want you, first of all. I was rather hoping for a different caped crusader. You've probably heard of him. Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome? We sort of have this on and off relationship. We just can't keep away from each other. Although I must say, he's taking longer than I thought he would," he said. The knife twirled in his hand, eyes never leaving Clark's and grip never loosening on Bruce's waist.

For the first time that night Clark took a moment to observe how Bruce was handling the situation. If Lois were there she would have slapped him for not checking sooner. He'd simply been so distracted by the clown that he hadn't taken the time to actually look Bruce over.

He looked understandably uncomfortable, pressed up against a madman with his cheek bleeding, but otherwise unharmed. His hands were sandwiched between their bodies against the Joker's chest in an attempt to keep some distance, and he was leaning as far from his the other man's face as he could. There was wind sweeping through one of the windows that looked as though the Joker must have shattered it with a bullet, and it rustled through Bruce's hair. But that wasn't important. 

Clark wanted to reassure him that everything would be fine, but the Joker interrupted him before he could begin to try.

"I suppose you'll do though," he said, grinning ear to ear, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of Clark's stomach.

* * *

Bruce wanted to throw himself into a volcano.

Okay, not really. What he really wanted to do was throw Superman into a volcano along with the Joker.

He could handle one of them at a time, but having both of them together was a colossal pain. Also, there was no way he could win against both of them like this. With the Joker he could win as Batman, but with Superman he had to wait before he could achieve that. Likewise, with Superman he could win as Brucie Wayne, but that persona was useless against the Joker.

Ugh, why couldn't Superman just have stayed in Metropolis like he was supposed to?

He should have expected this outcome, he really should have, but he had rather hoped that the Kryptonian would lay low because of what happened at the Capitol. Just his luck that the dumbass would still take the time to come bother him.

Fuck this nonsense.

It didn't help that the Joker had surmised that Superman was attracted to Brucie. Not that it was difficult to do so. A child could have come to the same conclusion based on the overwhelming amount of times he had come to the billionaire's rescue.

Unfortunately this meant some extremely uncomfortably close contact with the psychopath. He highly doubted the Joker would bother with this leering if it were Batman or the police commissioner he was dealing with.

Nooooo, it just had to be Superman.

Also, if the Joker let his hand wander any lower than it currently was, he would have to consider forgoing his secret identity just so he could knock the bastard's teeth out.

"Since Batsy isn't coming out to play, how about we get this party started?" the Joker suggested. Superman's eyes narrowed in suspicion at the man, clearly trying to gauge how best to stop this before it began.

"Which matters more to you?" the Joker started, "A room full of Gotham society's biggest spenders, a prison full of gangbangers, rapists, and thugs, or little old Bruce Wayne?" Quick as a whip the knife in his hand was replaced by a gun, coated in garish lime green paint.

Superman looked perplexed that the Joker would be asking him such a question. "I'm not going to pick one over the other."

"Oh but you will," the Joker laughed. "That's the fun of the game. You can only choose one to save, and the other two get blown to high heaven. And if you don't choose, then all three of them go up. I have an audio connection set up to me, so my little helpers know just what to do when you make your decision. And if you try and break the connection or it stops working on its own, then everyone goes up anyways!"

Superman's hands clenched into fists again, and there was a dark glint in his eyes. Bruce almost shivered at the sight. He reminded himself that Superman was here to fight the Joker not him.

Too bad for Superman. Too bad for everyone actually. It was clear that the superhero wasn't used to situations like this, and that did not bode well for anyone involved in the Joker's scheme. Bruce quite unfortunately included.

How the hell was he supposed to get out of this mess?

* * *

Clark had no idea what he should do. Things were so much easier to understand in Metropolis. Back home he stopped people from robbing banks, or muggings, or rescued people from fires. Based on his all too limited experience, Gotham was a whole bowl full of crazy.

Whenever he showed up in Gotham there was always some maniac on the loose wreaking havoc. Scarecrow would be gassing people with fear toxin, or the Riddler would have some elaborate game set up that ended in death if you failed, or there was some insane serial killer hanging around that carved tally marks in his skin for every person he killed.

Gotham was a fucking shit show.

Clark had no idea why anyone would ever want to live there. Of course, he would always be a small town Kansas boy, but he strongly felt that the rest of the world shared his sentiment on this.

 "Why are you doing this?" he asked the Joker, trying not to let his frustration show. What was the reason for this madness? What was the hidden purpose of this test?

The villain groaned and made a show of slumping over in annoyance like a high schooler being told they couldn't have class outside. "Because it's _fun_ ," he sneered.

"It's fun to put people's lives in danger for no reason other than to relieve your own boredom?" Clark said sharply. He was quickly running out of his already limited patience. Perhaps if he was lucky the Joker would decide that this whole experience was too boring to follow through with and leave everyone unharmed.

An unlikely outcome, but a man could hope.

The Joker merely rolled his eyes. "You're no fun at all, you know that? You just don't get it," he tutted. "Batman gets it. He and I are two sides of the same coin. The world created Gotham, and Gotham made us, and now we make the world. It's simple."

Clark had no clue what he was talking about, but he could sort of see how the Joker and Batman could be two sides of the same coin. Both of them seemed to have no regard for the judicial system and played hopscotch with the lines of morality.

But that was the pessimistic Clark talking. After all, not too long ago he'd learned some new information about Batman that made him reconsider how bad the vigilante really was.

Batman may have had questionable morals, but he was still head and heels above the Joker who had none.

"By the way, I neglected to tell you earlier, but you only have five minutes to make your decision. Or well, you _had_ five," he corrected, "Now you have about one minute."

"I'm not playing your games, Joker," he bit out. He scanned the buildings for explosives but came up empty handed. He'd found the prison being targeted with ease, but the other room he'd assumed would be at the gala they had both crashed.

The clown must have known what he was doing because he cut in across his thoughts, "They're not here, Supes. I know better than to gather all my pieces in one corner on the board. Forty five seconds before everyone becomes mincemeat."

Clark's head was spinning, thoughts whirring by at a thousand miles per hour.

Think, Clark, there had to be something he could do. Could he fly around the city and look for the bombs in such a short amount of time? He knew he was fast, but he'd never tested his speed like this before...

"'Faster than a speeding bullet'. That's what they say about you, Supes. Tell me, are you faster than the bullet that's going to travel down the barrel of this gun when I pull the trigger? Or will Gotham mourn the death of another Wayne?" He shoved the gun against Bruce's temple, making the billionaire wince.

Oh Rao, what was he going to do?!

He couldn't make this choice- he just couldn't. Nobody deserved to die like this. Not even those criminals in jail. How could he possibly make this choice?

The answer was that he couldn't. But if he didn't choose one of them to save then they were all going to die.

What was the logical decision to make?

Logically speaking, it didn't make sense to choose Bruce Wayne. Bruce was wealthy and powerful in a sense, but he was just one man. No one person is more important than anyone else- that's what he'd always learned anyway- so he shouldn't pick Bruce.

But he wanted to.

But that wasn't the logical decision.

If he was being rational, then he shouldn't pick the prison either because all those people in there had made their choices, and they'd been bad enough choices to land them in jail. But maybe they didn't all deserve to be there in the first place- after all, the police were crooked in Gotham.

And what about the room full of "big spenders"? They had all the money in Gotham, yet most of what they seemed to do was spend it on frivolous things. At best, they held charity galas where most of the profits went to paying for the gala expenses instead of whatever charity they were promoting. Hell, some of them probably belonged in jail too but simply had the money to bail themselves out of trouble.

Still, some of those people probably did want to make a difference in the world, so that made them more likely to be good people than the other options right?

But it wasn't about whether or not they were good or not; this was about who deserved to live.

"You have fifteen seconds," the Joker interrupted his thoughts with another update.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckf uckfuck fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-!_

"You don't have to do this!" he yelled, desperate to stop this madness. He had kept scanning around the city as best as he could, but he couldn't find- THERE!

There was a party in full swing about twenty blocks away- a birthday party for a kid? There was a little girl sitting on a loveseat in front of her guests, wheelchair folded to the side and one of her legs bandaged where it ended at her knee. There was nothing suspicious about the situation except for the large present she was about to open that looked exactly like the box that was sitting in one horrified looking inmate's cell clear across town.

" _Six seconds_."

Clark didn't stop to question his decision. Before he knew it he was bursting into the birthday party in a red and blue blur and grabbing the package. It was heavy in his hands, and he didn't know if that was because of the explosives or because it meant he had signed Bruce's and Gotham State Penitentiary's fates.

He headed towards the jail, but his trajectory had to shift upwards in order to keep the buildings out of the blast radius.

One second.

He turned his eyes back to where the Joker stood, back to where Bruce Wayne stood.

And then the unthinkable happened.

A small hatch opened in the top of the box, and confetti exploded in his face.

* * *

"Looks like he made his choice. Ready for the fireworks, beautiful?" the Joker asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was _very_ hard. He pretended to look frightened instead.

The Joker removed the gun from his temple so that he could point it at his face instead, although he kept it at a reasonable distance so it wasn't resting right against his skin. He pulled the trigger.

Out shot a little flag on the end that had the word "BANG!" printed on it like a cartoon sound effect.

"Well, would you look at that? I must have brought the wrong gun," the Joker laughed.

"Oh, thank God," Bruce breathed out in what he hoped sounded like genuine relief.

He'd figured out that the gun was fake earlier on. Although it was coated in metal, it was unmistakably a joke shop toy he'd seen before. Sure, it took him a minute or so to recognize it due to the green paint and what could have been his impending doom, but he'd figured it out.

Superman had not.

The only conclusion was that the toy was lined in lead to fool the Man of Steel, which also meant that the Joker had actually been planning for Superman to show up. Bruce wasn't sure where Batman would have fit in all this, but he was sure the Joker had had a plan for him.

He probably should have tried to free himself from the clown during Superman's dilemma, but after he realized the gun was fake, he figured the rest of Superman's challenge was fake too. So he wasn't overly concerned about it. Besides, he was curious to see what Superman would do.

On the other hand, the Joker was not one for making empty threats without an ulterior motive. If Batman had shown up then there had to be something planned for him. But what?

He was attempting to puzzle it out when the Joker broke him from his train of thoughts.

"Nice night for a little skydiving isn't it?" he asked casually before grabbing the back of Bruce's suit jacket and tossing him through the already broken window from their spot on the thirty first floor.

Now, Bruce could have prevented that from happening, but something told him that he didn't have to worry about turning into a human pancake on the sidewalk that night.

Sure enough, his fall was stopped when a pair of strong arms and a firm chest caught him midair. He looked up into the sky blue, twinkling eyes of Metropolis' golden boy. Superman gave him a wan smile, and Bruce could see the weary look creeping in at the edges of his eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked, surprising himself. He had meant to thank the other man and proposition him a little to make him uncomfortable, but instead he blurted that out. Oops.

Superman gave him a searching look. "Um, rescuing you?" he replied hesitantly. Dear lord, he looked like a kicked puppy. Bruce had a passing thought that he should carry around dog treats in his pocket.

He would have carried on with his original plan, but an explosion across town caught their attention.

"Oh no," Superman breathed, voicing both of their thoughts.

* * *

"What happened?" Bruce asked softly, knowing that the Kryptonian could see and hear everything at the site of the attack.

Clark didn't answer, focused on piecing everything together, trying to find out what was useful information and what was not. It was not good, but he couldn't say he was surprised.

"It looks like it was a hospital wing. The pe- the pediatrics section," he said, choking on the words as they left his mouth. He wasn't naive enough to believe that this was unrelated to his decision with the Joker. This tied in somehow.

This was his fault.

* * *

It made sense. Superman was given three choices to choose from, made to sound like they were all three undeserving of his help, with one choice that sounded like the most reasonable option to choose. Then when he chose the reasonable but still morally repugnant option that would have killed the other two, the Joker showed his true intentions.

To prove that Superman was not the infallible savior he was made out to be.

Sure, the attack on the Capitol was also proof of that, but this was different. That could be explained away as an indirect consequence of his actions, but this? There was nothing indirect about this.

Superman had to decide who he thought was more worthy of saving, thus disproving the attitude that he gave that all lives were equal.

And after making that decision, not only did he have to live knowing that he had gone against his own words he had to do so with the knowledge that more innocent people had died on his account.

In comparison to the three options he'd been given, here was a hidden fourth option that would have been more reasonably to choose than the other three. In the eyes of the rational world it would make the most sense to save the hospital of sick children than it would the room of big spenders or the jail. Or a single billionaire that was notorious for being a disgrace to his family name.

Bruce may not have liked Superman, but even he wasn't cruel enough to let the man wallow over his mistake.

It wasn't as if Batman hadn't made terrible mistakes with the Joker either.

He saw the pain in the alien's eyes, saw the shine of unshed tears, and resolved to let his vengeance against Superman go for the night. Just one night. That was okay, wasn't it?

He reached up to rest his hand against Superman's cheek. He blinked blearily at Bruce in response.

"Take me home. Please," Bruce said, and the Man of Steel stared at him for a moment before nodding and taking off for the Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, plot, what was I thinking that's too much responsibility
> 
> Also, I read the Dark Knight Returns for class, and it's become glaringly apparent that Snyder used that for his inspiration for Batman in BvS, but I still maintain the attitude that Snyder's a dumbass because Frank Miller's Batman in Dark Knight Returns does not work the same way BvS Batman does, in that he's an outlier to how Batman behaves/ should behave, and while it's perfect for Miller's version of Batman who brings himself out of retirement because he doesn't know how to live without being Batman, it still makes no fucking sense for Snyder's version who is in perfect health and not retired at all. 
> 
> And yes, that nightmare is an extremely blatant reference to The Dark Knight Returns. 
> 
> Story related notes that have to do with like plot and not me complaining about how dumb i think Snyder is: Sorry I cannot properly convey the Joker's tone of voice with my writing, but do me a favor and attempt to make him sound as much as Heath Ledger Joker as you can, because we sure as hell aren't going to make him Jared Leto. Also sorry if this whole plan of his sounds convoluted and makes no sense, but I am unfortunately not a mastermind of intricate plots, and this was the best I could do. Sorry C Nolan, but we can't all be you. 
> 
> Next chapter will start where this one leaves off, and will be noticeably softer. I think. Idk I'm not that great at planning, but I strongly feel like Bruce/Superman tenderness is going to happen, so keep your fingers crossed lol. 
> 
> Thanks to any of you peeps still reading despite the very long and unpredictable absences I take between updates, you're all wonderful and I love you *smooch*


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